


The Story of Us

by Carver Edlund (goshcas)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Best Friends, Destiel - Freeform, Falling In Love, Fluff, Harry Potter - Freeform, I'm Sorry For Making Lisa A Bitch, M/M, POV Alternating, Taylor Swift - Freeform, unadulterated and shameless cheesy cliche fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goshcas/pseuds/Carver%20Edlund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Wait, do you know what this means, Castiel? It means that you're Taylor Swift."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel blinks. "What?" he asks. And he purposely does not mention the fact that Dean's first impression was of him singing Taylor Swift.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"In the song 'You Belong With Me'."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In which Castiel is the shy and socially awkward nerd going into junior year, Charlie is his energetic best friend who is basically the entire fandom, Kevin is a super nerd, and Garth is just Garth. Oh, and Dean is the new one who only just moved into the house behind Castiel's and walked in on him (badly) belting out Taylor Swift while mowing the lawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enchanted

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for NaNoWriMo 2013. (It’s not actually 50,000 words. Oops.)  
> I have one thing to say about perspective--fucking pronouns. Two male main characters. Third person. 'Nuff said.  
> This story was so much fun to write, so I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let’s see… notes…  
> Ah, yes, the songs I mention from Dr. Sexy are actually some of the songs they played in Changing Channels during Dr. Sexy. I also looked up the runtimes of Harry Potter. (This will all make sense in time.)  
> I wrote Kevin the way he was before he got all badass, because in this 'verse, he didn't have to deal with all that crazy stuff. Therefore, he's still an adorable scaredy cat who plays cello and freaks out about grades.  
> Charlie basically represents the fandom.  
> Also, thank you to all of my friends and betas who read this beforehand. You know who you are. (They’ll also be named in the ending notes.)  
> Okay. Well. Let’s begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was written for NaNoWriMo 2013. (It’s not actually 50,000 words. Oops.)  
> I have one thing to say about perspective--fucking pronouns. Two male main characters. Third person. 'Nuff said.  
> This story was so much fun to write, so I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let’s see… notes…  
> Ah, yes, the songs I mention from Dr. Sexy are actually some of the songs they played in Changing Channels during Dr. Sexy. I also looked up the runtimes of Harry Potter. (This will all make sense in time.)  
> I wrote Kevin the way he was before he got all badass, because in this 'verse, he didn't have to deal with all that crazy stuff. Therefore, he's still an adorable scaredy cat who plays cello and freaks out about grades.  
> Charlie basically represents the fandom.  
> Also, thank you to all of my friends and betas who read this beforehand. You know who you are. (They’ll also be named in the ending notes.)  
> Okay. Well. Let’s begin.
> 
> \---EDIT---  
> WOW WOW WOW YOU GUYS ARE ALL GREAT  
> okay so i havent been responding to comments cuz im a shit person. but. i just want you all to know that i'm super grateful for them and every single comment just makes my day. seriously, you guys are great.  
> soooo yeah feel free to visit me at my [tumblr](http://buckyy.co.vu) if you feel like it.

 

_This night is sparkling, don't you let it go_

_I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home_

_I'll spend forever wondering if you knew_

_I was enchanted to meet you_

 

Castiel is in his backyard, mowing the lawn and singing along to Taylor Swift when he meets the love of his life.

Okay, so it isn't like he _wants_ to be listening to Taylor Swift, I mean, come on, he's a sixteen year old boy, and he might be a flaming homosexual but he isn't _that_ crazy.

It totally isn't his fault that his older brother, Gabriel, thought it would be a brilliant prank to mix in a bunch of Taylor Swift songs with his Beatles playlist. It is also totally not his fault that his older sister, Anna, went through a Bad Music Phase and dragged him along for the ride so he knows all the lyrics.

It _is_ Castiel's fault, however, that he doesn’t change the song. He just decides, whatever, he'll survive a little bit of pop-country love songs for the twenty minutes of mowing the back lawn. It definitely isn't because he kind of likes Taylor Swift. Definitely not. No. Never. That would be... crazy.

Ahem.

Anyways.

It is also Castiel's fault that he has a horrible habit of singing along to music, whatever the music is, whether he actually likes the song, whether he actually knows the lyrics, whether he's in public or not. So this bad habit led him to belt out "Love Story" while pushing around the little red mower.

Castiel is totally justified in doing this, mind you. First of all, the lawn mower's growling engine is loud enough to _mostly_ tune out his singing. Second, he's on his own damn property and you can just shut up because he has _rights._ Finally, it's not like anyone was out there, right? So even though he is singing loudly, even if he is _ever-so-slightly_ dancing around, even if he is fumbling with the lyrics, even if he is totally sucking at maneuvering the mower because he was not made to do lawn-work, it shouldn't have mattered because no one else is there.

Except for the fact that there is totally somebody there.

The Winchesters had just moved into the house behind them three days ago. Castiel had even _seen_ the Winchesters moving into the house behind them three days ago _._ So, yeah, he forgot, for all of half an hour; sue him.

The lawn mower is loud, the music is louder, and so it takes Castiel a few minutes to realize that the older of the two Winchester sons is leaning casually on the white picket fence dividing their yards, watching him with an amused smile. When he does notice the figure--the incredibly lean, fit, tan figure--out of the corner of his eye, he has a heart attack. Or, at least, it feels like a heart attack. He's not sure whether the stuttering heart has to do with the fact that _holy-crap-there’s-a-person-there-when-did-that-happen_ , or the fact that this person has got to be the most gorgeous person Castiel has ever seen--dark blond hair, teetering along the edges of light brown, an endless expanse of tan skin and muscle showing out of a Metallica t-shirt, eyes so bright and green that Castiel can see them from here--or from the look he was giving him. It was a raised-brow, half-grin, twinkling-eyes look of amusement and barely contained laughter.

Maybe it takes him a minute to realize that he has been singing a bit louder than he had first thought, and a minute after that for him to manage to _shut the fuck up_ , and a minute after that to realize that he had stopped moving the lawn mower and was now full-on _staring_ at the guy. That's when his iPod--and he's just noticing how freaking loud it is--switches to Taylor Swift's "Enchanted", and Castiel is not going to think about how appropriate that is, absolutely not.

The Winchester boy, who remains unwavering under Castiel's gaze, just grins and raises his hands. He might say something along the lines of "Don't mind me, carry on, I'll just be over here", but Castiel can't tell because the engine of the lawn mower is still running (and Castiel has no intention of stopping it, because he can never get it started back up again by himself). Castiel raises his eyebrows, almost imperceptibly, as if to say "I am totally unimpressed" (which would totally be a lie because good _God_ that boy has got to be the most beautiful human being Castiel has ever laid eyes on). He then proceeds to mow the lawn just as he normally would, pretending that he can't feel the boy's eyes on him. He also pretends that he is totally skilled at maneuvering this asshole of a lawn mower that doesn't understand that when he _pushes,_ it's supposed to _freaking move_. The sound of the boy's laughter--deep, from the stomach--comes from behind him. It is most definitely not the best sound Castiel has ever heard. Definitely not.

Castiel levels him a glare, which the Winchester seems to find hilarious. And because Castiel has absolutely no idea what else to do, he lets go of the lawn mower so that it stops growling, and walks over to the boy.

He steps sort of close to him (He never had been a good judge of personal space. It has nothing to do with the fact that Dean is really really nice-looking. Of course not.), and says "Hello," because he is so freaking suave.

The boy grins wider, unfazed by the close proximity, and replies, "Need a little help there?" with a raised eyebrow aimed towards the stupid lawn mower that doesn't recognize the difference between left and right.

Castiel does not glare at the boy again, but he comes really freaking close. "I'll manage." _Damn_ his eyes were really pretty up close. Wait. Up close. _Back up, Castiel, personal space,_ he thinks. His family had always gotten uncomfortable with his tendency to stand closer than socially acceptable. As he steps back a bit, he acknowledges that the boy hadn't seemed to mind that much.

Castiel decides to leave it at that, turning away and back to the lawn mower, which is sitting silent and pathetic, smeared with muddy grass, before he does something stupid like tell the boy his name and ask for one in return, or offer to show him around, or ask what grade he's in and what school he'll be going to. He really just hopes that the boy gets the message that he wants to mow the lawn in peace and quiet. (Quiet, also known as Taylor Swift singing about love stories and “ _Please don't be in love with someone else, please don't have somebody waiting on you--”)._

Of course, Castiel was never lucky when it came to this stuff. So, naturally, when Castiel returns to the mower and starts to yank at that godforsaken wire (the one that is _supposed_ to start the engine but for some reason has some sort of grudge against Castiel and his slender arms), the boy is still leaning over the fence casually as if he freaking owns the place.

Which he does, actually. That was poor phrasing.

But the point is that Castiel is leaning over the small red contraption, yanking at a black cord with all of his strength, and there that boy was with his bright green eyes and messed up hair. And he was laughing at Castiel's inability to start the lawn mower. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Castiel yanks at it helplessly twice more (noting that it was indeed much harder than the dance move he had learned as a child). Castiel spares Green-Eyes a glance... and does a double take when he notices what he was doing. The boy swiftly hops the white picket fence, lifting himself over it gracefully and with ease. Before Castiel can even sputter out a _What the hell are you doing?_ , Green-Eyes gives the wire two hard pulls, drawing the cord over with strength that caused (quite impressive) muscles to flex in a way that Castiel will _not_ acknowledge that he found really sexy.

The boy gives Castiel a grin before leaning back against the fence. He doesn't bother climbing back over, but instead just stands there. In Castiel's back yard. Still looking thoroughly amused at Castiel's poor lawn mowing skills. Castiel lets out a long-suffering sigh before continuing to cut the grass, because he honestly does _not_ have time for this. He even turns his music on again for good measure, just to demonstrate exactly how much he does not care that a pair of intensely green eyes laced with amusement and interest are tracking his moves. He also changes the song, because _Enchanted_ was seeming a bit too close to home right now.

Castiel seems to struggle even more with the lawn mower now, under pressure, than he had before. The sound of the boy chuckling under his breath and the fact that Castiel can _feel_ the boy just a few feet away like some sort of hyperactive sixth sense, seems to make it impossible for Castiel to maneuver the contraption.

But by some miracle, Castiel finishes mowing the lawn within the next ten minutes. That should be a relief, except for the fact that Green-Eyes is still standing there, and the look on his face is definitely one that expects Castiel to actually interact with him. Shit. Okay.

Castiel awkwardly makes his way over toward the boy, with no idea what to say.

"Hello," he says. Again.

Green eyes crinkle in a smile. "You said that earlier."

"So I did. You're in my yard."

"So I am." And that smile, that little grin the boy gives him, that is really nice. Really _really_ nice, actually. And he has freckles, Castiel realizes now that he is getting a good look. A lot of freckles, dotting his nose and cheeks, scattered over his face like stars. Full lips, really pink, curled up around a smile. Light stubble, barely there. Hair that looked like hands had been run through them and--

How long is it acceptable for two people to look at each other before it became classified as creepy staring? This is probably past that line. Castiel really can’t tell. He figures he could probably stare at this boy--whose name he doesn’t even know yet--

"I'm Dean."

\--for hours on end.

Wait, he said something. What does one normally say in these situations?

"My name is Castiel." That’s sufficient.

"Castiel? Cool name."

"It's the name of the angel of Thursday." See: Castiel's horrible habit of spewing random facts that _no one actually gives a fuck about_.

Dean doesn't look even slightly bothered by it, just shrugs and tilts his head a bit, looking closer at Castiel.

“Are you a junior?"

"I will be, as of this Monday, yes."

"Lawrence High School?"

Castiel nods.

Dean grins.

 _Fuck_.

"Awesome. So I think this is where either you either offer me a ride, or you offer to show me around. Either works, but it's gotta happen."

Castiel gives him a questioning look.

"It's inevitable."

This time Dean earns from Castiel a disbelieving look, something along the lines of _What sort of creature are you_ mixed with _What do you think you're doing_ and _Are you insane because I think you might be_. But the words that actually make themselves heard are, "I don't know how to drive." Those are definitely _not_ the words Castiel had intended, but they're better than the words that had almost formed on his lips (which would have been something along the lines of _Are you gay_ or maybe _I'm single_ or _My new favorite color is the green in your eyes_ ).

Dean gapes, as if the idea was appalling and he pities the poor unfortunate creature who had uttered them. Which is, incidentally, Castiel. "So you--" he glances around, as if fearing someone would hear him as he whispered the next words--" _take the bus?_ "

Castiel somehow manages to refrain from laughing as he replies, "My sister typically provides transportation."

"Then I guess that's on me. I'll pick you up, say, seven a.m?"

Castiel would not describe his reaction as gaping, but if he is being honest, it kind of is. Before he can gather any reaction, Dean continues.

"And you can see my baby--she's gorgeous, 1967 Chevy Impala, black, hardtop sedan. Legitimately _the_ most badass car you will ever--"

"Dean, you really don't have to give me a ride."

Dean cuts off, looks at Castiel again. "I know I don't _have_ to, but I'd feel bad making you give me the grand tour of the school without doing anything in return." He gives a crooked grin, gorgeous and sly.

"You're a bit obnoxious aren't you?" There is a slight teasing tone in Castiel's voice, and he has no idea where it is coming from.

"Oh yeah," Dean smirked.

"And kind of an asshole."

"Sometimes."

"Okay."

Dean pauses for a moment, just looking at Castiel, and before Castiel can realize that he has just somehow been set up to show Dean around _and_ get a ride with him to school, all in the space of five minutes, Dean winks--full on _winks,_ and, God, Castiel is so screwed if the way his heart flips has anything to say about that--and hops the fence again, just as gracefully as the first time.

As Dean backs away, still smiling widely, he repeats, "Seven on Monday?"

All Castiel can do is nod dumbly as Dean disappeared back into his house.

Okay.

#

When Castiel goes back inside, he is humming Taylor Swift. It's totally not his fault. Luckily, no one is at home to mention it. Even better is the fact that no one saw him collapse against the closed back door with a sigh that could rival a fourteen year old girl from a chick flick. Half of him is still trying to wrap his head around the logic of "Dean + wants + Castiel + socialization", and he's completely terrified that he will majorly fuck something up. The other half of him is composed of his still quickly beating heart, and the fluttering in his stomach.

Jesus. He _is_ a teenage girl.

 

#

 

To say that Castiel was nervous would be an understatement. Junior year means starting to look at colleges means picking a career means trying to satisfy everyone means not doing what _he_ actually wants. He has to keep up his record of straight As and near-perfect attendance. Aside from that, of course, was the fact that Dean Winchester was giving him a ride to school tomorrow. Dean Winchester who had just moved in, who Castiel knew nothing about, aside from the fact that he was gorgeous and could easily slide into place with the popular crowd, but instead seemed to be working to carve a spot of his own into Castiel's life.

Or maybe he just doesn't want to not know anyone on the first day of junior year. He probably just wants someone to show him around. Next week he'll have met the actual cool people who have more than two friends and go to parties and get drunk, and he'll forget all about Castiel.

Castiel feels like this should be a relief. He's perfectly fine with the friends he has now--Charlie, Garth and Kevin. But instead of relief, he feels a sinking feeling in his stomach. He doesn't want to think about what that means.

But for now, Castiel is getting a ride to school with someone who is potentially (definitely) the most beautiful person Castiel has ever seen. So it isn't all bad, then, right?

When Castiel closes his eyes to go to sleep, he tries to focus on _not_ thinking about freckles on tan skin, green eyes, and a lopsided grin. The last coherent thought Castiel formed before drifting off into sleep is _God, I am so screwed._

 

#

 

Castiel was not one of those people who struggled to get ready on the first day of school, and even Dean Winchester with his flawless _everything_ didn't change that. When he wakes up, he does not have trouble choosing what to wear or how to present himself. This year, Castiel told himself, was no different from last year, right? (Except for the fact that this is his second to last year, and he has to start looking at colleges and making decisions that will affect the rest of his life, and the fact that this year is literally nothing like last year. But Castiel is choosing to ignore this information so as to avoid a panic attack.) So he just throws on a blue sweater and his glasses, with his favorite (however ill-fitting) tan overcoat.

The house is bustling with the three teens, Castiel, Gabriel, and Anna all whizzing around as they try to get ready. Castiel can tell that Anna is running late, if the amount of time she spent in the bathroom meant anything, so he's pretty relieved he doesn't have to get a ride from her and risk being late. Gabriel is sitting on the stairs, sucking on a lollipop, waiting for Anna. Gabriel is returning to middle school for the seventh grade, and Castiel can tell he's getting irritated with Anna, a bit nervous despite his carefree demeanor, and not wanting to be late.

Castiel is sort of kind of slightly worried that Dean won't show up, that he forgot or maybe realized that Castiel was not the type of person he wanted to associate himself with. Castiel wouldn't blame him. So he is a bit pleasantly surprised when a strange car _does_ pull up in front of his house at exactly 7:01.

Castiel waves goodbye to Anna, who tries to call out--"Hey, who's that?" but Castiel doesn't hear her. Or, at least, he pretends that he doesn't hear her.

Castiel doesn't know much about cars. Actually, he doesn't know _anything_ about cars. He does, however, know enough to tell that Dean's car, the one he had seemed so enthusiastic about just a few days ago, is gorgeous. It is an old model, classic-looking, but its black paint and silver chrome look shiny and brand new.

As Castiel draws closer to this car, trying to ignore the fast beating of his heart that seems to be his natural reaction to Dean, he also notices that there is already a person occupying the front passenger seat.

What?

When Castiel opens the back door carefully, Dean twists around in his seat.

"Sorry--I forgot to mention that I have to give my baby brother a ride. That okay?"

Castiel nods as he slides into the seat behind them. He can deal. It was just a bit awkward, which is not anything he can’t deal with.

He reached down to buckle his seat belt before realizing that he had none. Did this car have no seat belts? Why not? Did they just drive around without seat belts? Castiel glanced over at Sam and Dean. No seat belts. What was Castiel supposed to do? What if they crashed? They could--

"Sammy, this is Castiel," Dean says, gesturing between the two.

\--die or something. Wait. Dean said something. And is expecting Castiel to say something. Okay. _Say something, Castiel_. No, scratch that, revise it to _Say something that doesn't have to do with the car's lack of seat belts._ What are they talking about again? Right, little brother Sammy, meet Castiel. Okay. Castiel manages to shut up his mind, which is not helping at all, and lets his mouth take over.

"Meeting the family already, Dean? Don't you think we're moving a bit fast?" And _holymotherofgod_ Castiel just flirted. Actually flirted. Confidently-- _easily,_ even. He didn't even mean to! Fuck. Fuck, Dean was probably straight. Judging by the worn-looking brown leather jacket Dean was currently wearing, he was _definitely_ straight.

But Dean just lets out a deep laugh, one of the ones that are right from the belly, and it sounds really really nice. Okay. So Castiel didn't completely screw things up yet. That's good.

Sammy turned around to look toward Castiel. "It's just _Sam_ , actually, not Sammy," he said, giving Dean a pointed look. Castiel gathered that Sam had to make that correction all the time. He nods as he gets a good look at Dean's "baby brother".

He has brown hair that seems to be getting long, shaggy and messy. Even sitting, Castiel could tell that he was pretty short and could easily imagine Dean teasing him about it.

Dean just rolls his eyes and says, "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Sammy."

Sam looks hilariously scandalized, letting out a scoff.

Just as Castiel is beginning to worry about having to try to make conversation about something inane like the weather and _So how is Lawrence treating you?,_ Dean reaches over and turns a dial on the radio, suddenly blasting classic rock music. Castiel almost laughs out loud at the look Dean receives from Sam. Dean just shakes his head at the offended Sam and says, "You know the rules."

"Driver chooses the music," Sam recites, and it is obvious that he has been told this dozens of times. "Shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Castiel lets out a small laugh.

The drive is surprisingly easy, and he finds that he enjoys just sitting back and listening to the brothers' easy banter. Neither one of them force Castiel into the conversation or try to make small talk. They don't treat Castiel like an intruder or even a guest. It almost feels like Castiel has always been there, like his addition is an entirely welcome and completely familiar one. Before Castiel even gets a chance to wonder why that is, they pull up to the school, Dean expertly easing the car into a parking space.

Sam hops out of the car with energy that only an incoming freshman could possibly muster, Dean following, and then Castiel.

"Alright, Sammy, you all set?" Dean asks.

Sam nods enthusiastically. "It's gonna be awesome. Do you think they have a debate team?"

"Already told you, I have no idea."

"They do," Castiel intercepts. "But nobody on it is particularly competent. And most of them have a stutter."

"Maybe you can change that," Dean smiles. "You can argue with anyone about anything."

"No I can't."

"You just proved my point, Sammy."

"No I didn't!"

Dean laughed, giving Castiel a sort of _See what I mean?_ look, before affectionately ruffling Sam's hair, to which Sam grumbled something that resembled "I told you to stop doing that..."

"Go kick ass, bro."

Sam combs his hair back down with his fingers before giving both of them a nod and walking toward the school.

Dean watches him walk away affectionately. "Little dork." He turns to Castiel and says proudly, "He's only thirteen, you know. He skipped first grade."

Castiel nods, unsure of what to say. They stand in silence.

What happens now?

"Uh, thank you. For the ride." That was a satisfactory response, right? "Do you have your schedule yet?" He hadn't actually meant to say that part, but it suddenly seemed really necessary for him to continue this odd friendship-acquaintanceship-thing with Dean.

Dean reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a battered square of paper. He unfolds it and hands the wrinkled schedule to Castiel. Castiel has already memorized his schedule, which Anna had ridiculed him for, and glances at Dean's, mentally comparing the two.

"We have the same Math and English, and we both go to study hall first period," Castiel says, handing the paper back.

"Awesome," Dean says, and his voice really does make it sound like he thinks that, giving Castiel that fluttery feeling in his stomach again. He folds the paper back up and tucks it into his jacket pocket as they start to make their way toward the entrance, side by side. "So are you gonna show me around or what?"

"School starts in ten minutes," Castiel points out.

"It's just study hall, we can skip."

"Then we'll go into study hall for attendance and have a supervisor give us hall passes."

"Oh, you're one of _those_ kids," Dean says in a disapproving tone. It isn't until Castiel looked up and saw Dean's ever-present grin that he realized he was kidding.

"One of which kids?"

"You know, no breaking the rules, no having fun on school nights, everything by the book."

"That is completely untrue," Castiel says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

"Name one rule you've broken," Dean challenges.

"I've downloaded music from the internet illegally," he retorts.

"No," Dean says, waving it off. "Everyone does that. I mean something fun. Like sneaking out of the house. Or skipping school." They reach the front entrance and Dean holds the door open for Castiel to walk through.

Castiel gives him a look that could only be described as completely scandalized. "I'll have you know I have near perfect attendance."

"'Near'?"

"I had the flu, my sister, Anna, wouldn't let me go. She threatened to deface my overcoat if she saw me at school even once that week." Castiel leads Dean down the hallways toward the classroom where he knows their study hall is.

"Wow, Cas, how badass. How are you ever going to get into a good college after _that_ tomfoolery," Dean says dryly.

At that moment, all that runs through Castiel's brain was: Did he say "Cas"? Dean gave him a nickname. _Dean gave him a nickname_. This is not a drill, I repeat, _this is not a drill_.

Honestly, Castiel is a bit surprised at how easily he fell into conversation with Dean, lightly teasing in a way that Castiel couldn't help but love. It was an easy banter, back and forth; it felt _right._

What had they been talking about? Something about--

"Did you just use the word 'tomfoolery' in a casual conversation?"

"It was either 'that tomfoolery' or 'those shenanigans'," Dean says with a shrug.

Castiel gives him a _look_.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not wearing a trench coat. Now look who feels stupid," Dean teases with a light grin.

"It isn't a trench coat, it's an overcoat," Castiel corrected with feigned seriousness.

"Those are literally the same thing."

"That is a lie, there are clear distinctions."

"Please, Cas, enlighten me."

"A trench coat is made of water-resistant materials, and is technically classified as a raincoat. Overcoats are designed for warmth and protection against the elements, and are typically wool, cashmere, or a blend of other fabrics."

"Holy shit, you know your outerwear," Dean says, seeming genuinely surprised, and just a bit impressed, eyebrows raised, eyes lit up with amusement.

"I know lots of random and useless information."

"Like...?" Dean inquires

Castiel thinks for a moment. "Geometry."

Dean snorts out a laugh. Just as Castiel is opening his mouth to say something about diagramming sentences and identifying gerunds, he realized that they had reached the correct room. The bell would ring any minute.

"This is it," he announces. Of course, that much was probably obvious seeing as Castiel had stopped and turned toward the room.

Dean nodded toward the room. "After you."

Castiel goes through the opened door and sits down in the front of the room, almost missing Dean's not-so-discreet eye roll. "What?" Castiel asks.

" _And_ you sit in the front of the room."

Castiel does not see his point.

At Cas's blank expression, Dean sighs and sits in the desk next to him.

"Let me guess, you wanna do something really boring. Like being a lawyer or a tax accountant or something."

"Actually--"

"No, I can totally see it. Castiel the tax accountant. You have the trench coat--oh, sorry, _overcoat_ \--and everything."

"Well--" The electronic _ding_ of the school bell cuts him off, and the study hall supervisor steps forward and begins her lecture about _no food, no drinks, I expect you to do actual work in here, no phones, no sleeping, blah blah blah_. At the words "no sleeping," Castiel hears Dean yawning next to him and he is not sure if it was deliberate, but he still has to bite his lip to stifle a laugh.

After a few moments, the teacher, whose name Castiel did not hear or necessarily care to know either way, stops talking and finishes attendance. Castiel quickly gets a note for him to give Dean a tour, and he and Dean leave the room after shouldering their backpacks.

Castiel pauses in the hallway, waiting for Dean to shut the door. "We couldn't have just skipped?" Dean whined.

Castiel just frowns. "Do you have senioritis a year early, or are you always like this?"

"I like to think it's part of my charm." Castiel rolls his eyes, huffing out a laugh. "But, I swear to god, Cas, at some point this year I am going to somehow manage to convince you to skip school."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I have my ways. I like to think that I can be pretty creative."

Castiel wouldn't have interpreted this as flirting if not for the sly tone of voice and the mischievous smile, and he nearly tripped over himself when he did notice these things. This whole thing was generally freaking him out--the easy conversation, light flirting, the fact that Dean actually seemed to want to interact with him. Who knows why.

Castiel is suddenly hyper aware of the way Dean's green eyes are glinting, the way his freckles are more easily visible with light streaming in on his face through the windows, the way his smile just lights up his entire face.

He remembers that staring is typically a not-good-thing-to-do and averts his eyes, blushing-- _actually blushing_ , Castiel thought to himself. G _et a grip._ He clears his throat before saying, "So, uh, cafeteria first?"

Dean shrugs and nods. "You're the boss."

Castiel gives him the whole tour, showing Dean the main areas--main office, guidance center, cafeteria, gym, auditorium-- and then shows him where each of his classes are. The school has absolutely no organized system to the room numbers, with rooms 210 and 254 right next to each other. On the first floor, no less. ("Don't ask me to explain," Castiel had said. "I doubt even the architects understand the layout.")

Now though, they have time to kill and neither of them really want to go back to study hall just to stare at the wall because they have nothing to work on yet, so they find themselves in the courtyard, where kids can eat lunch if the weather is nice. Dean and Castiel are sitting at one of the stone tables, with their backpacks on the ground beside them. Dean is saying something, but Castiel doesn't hear a single word, is too distracted by the way Dean runs his hands through his hair _every thirty seconds_. The sunlight is filtered by the leaves on the trees above them, and the breeze is light, hinting at the beginning of autumn. Castiel tries desperately not to think about how Dean's eyes, which were watching him as he talked animatedly about--god, what were they even talking about?--were not just green, but ringed with light brown and flecked with gold.

Castiel was just realizing that Dean had asked something, expecting a reply of some sort, and Castiel is just staring at him. Castiel is about to say something embarrassing like, _Sorry, what did you say? I couldn't concentrate on your words because I was too busy analyzing your eye color,_ when the bell rang. Literally saved by the bell. Castiel would resent the cliche if not for the fact that he was relieved from whatever he was about to blurt out.

They stand, grab their backpacks, and go back inside to the hallway, which is quickly being filled with students. "I guess I'll see you in English?" Dean says, glancing at his schedule. Castiel nods and gives a small smile and a wave before turning and heading to his first actual class.

He's just made it to the stairs and hasn't even had a chance to gather his thoughts on Dean when something rams into him at full force. The "something" reveals itself to be Charlie Bradbury, Castiel's best friend, who had also been his _only_ friend for a time.

" _Castiel, w_ hat the hell happened to you too keep you from answering a damn text, you anti-social moth?" she demands.

"I--"

" _Beds empty, no note, car gone!"_

"I don't understand that reference."

"Seriously, dude? It's Harry Potter!" She sounds as if she has been personally offended. "Remind me again why we're friends?"

"I like to think it's because of my winning smile and charming personality," Castiel says dryly.

"Of course. But you are officially coming over to my house this weekend and we are going to have a Harry Potter movie marathon and there is nothing you can do about it."

"Good to see you haven't changed."

"Changed meaning gaining a single ounce of maturity? Me? Don't make me laugh," Charlie grinned. "Now give me your schedule before the bell rings and we're both late."

Castiel sighs, pulling out the sheet of paper so that they can compare.

Charlie announces that they have the same English class third period, and are heading to the same science class right now. "Yay!" She grabs his elbow and leads (drags) him towards the class, telling him about whatever new TV show she had recently gotten obsessed with and exactly how many episodes she had watched each day this summer. ("Ten on a good day, a season per day if I sacrificed sleep, but typically about six," she informed him seriously.)

Science passes by painfully slowly. The teacher has a dull and completely boring voice that rivals that of a politician, and he drones on and on about the lab rules, the same lab rules they have every year, the same lab rules they'd had committed to memory since the sixth grade. Charlie makes it more bearable, leaning over toward him and whispering snarky comments, blatantly disregarding every word out of the teacher’s mouth until the bell rings. She'd always had a slight problem with authority.

It's not until Castiel is out of second period and walking toward his English class with Charlie that he remembers Dean is going to be in his next class, and his stomach flips over just a bit. He doesn't realize he's made any sort of face until Charlie is poking him with her elbow.

"Who is he?" she says with a knowing smirk.

"Who's who?" Castiel says, feigning innocence, widening his blue eyes ever-so-slightly.

"The person you're thinking about."

"I'm not thinking about anyone," Castiel answers, just a bit too quickly.

"Let me rephrase this: the person you're thinking about, who is most likely the same person who I saw you coming inside from the courtyard with earlier," Charlie argues, putting a hand on her hip. Castiel opens his mouth to intervene when Charlie interrupts, cutting him off. "Yes, I saw you. I got out of class a few minutes early and saw you through the window, having incredibly explicit eye sex with some gorgeous new guy."

"I was not--having-- _eye sex,"_ Castiel attempts to argue weakly, his voice choking around the words that made him fiercely blush.

"You were totally undressing him with your eyes. There is no point in denying it.  And I don't think you're totally unjustified, I mean, _damn_ , if I swung that way I'd be _all over that_ \--"

"Charlie," Castiel scolded.

"--not to mention that you totally weren't alone in it; as soon as he walked inside, I saw at least half of the girls in the hallways--and some of the guys, too--giving him the _look_ \--"

" _Charlie_ ," Castiel repeats, growing exasperated and hoping that she will stop talking for six seconds.

"--you know, that _look_ that is basically like eye-sign-language for ' _It is now a race to see which one of us gets to see him naked first and whoever does must get pictures_.'"

"Oh my God, Charlie, please stop talking."

"Only if you tell me his name, how you met, and when you'll be announcing the wedding."

"He's Dean Winchester. He lives in the house behind me, he irritated me while I was trying to mow the lawn, and there will be no wedding because we are barely even friends and he is definitely straight."

"How _much_ definitely straight?"

"He's wearing a leather jacket and he drives a muscle car from the sixties."

"Jeez."

"Exactly."

"But your gaydar is kind of embarrassingly awful. Like when we first met and you thought I was flirting with you and you started to give me the whole _Sorry, I don't swing that way_ speech until I told you that I was the most gay--"

" _Yes,_ okay, got it!" Castiel groans, not needing another recount of his horrible social skills.

"So, wait, is he in the next class with us?"

Castiel nods seriously, causing Charlie to squeal a little bit.

They are amongst the first people to arrive at the classroom, and Dean is not there yet. Castiel sends Charlie a silent look of _Do not tell anyone or so help me,_ to which Charlie mimes zipping her lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key. Castiel only rolls his eyes a little.

The bell is close to ringing when Dean finally walks through the door, and for a split second Castiel considers offering the empty seat next to him (the one not already occupied by Charlie, of course, to the right). That's when he notices the girl who is accompanying him, standing just barely too close, giggling lightly at whatever Dean had just been saying. Lisa Braeden, with her silky dark hair, smooth tan skin, and a set of perfect damn eyebrows. It only makes sense, of course. Castiel had already predicted that Dean would immediately find a place in the popular crowd, and here he was, third period of the first day of school, already having the most popular and sought after girl in school wrapped around his finger. It is the natural order of things, Castiel knows, and yet he still feels a pang of disappointment when Dean's eyes slide right past Castiel, zeroing in on two empty seats near the back of the room. He leads Lisa over there, sitting down quickly. Castiel honestly doesn't mind _too_ much; it's not like he is Dean's _only_ friend, or even actually Dean's friend at all, not officially. He will admit that he'd been sort of hoping just a little bit for Dean to sit next to him, or even just a smile as he came in or _something_.

He spares a glance at Charlie, hoping not to see any sort of _pity_ on her face, and is not disappointed when he finds that she is instead glaring at Lisa with ferocity, as if personally offended by her very existence. He tries to bite down the half-smile that attempts to emerge at the sight of his friend.

Castiel tries his hardest to not look at Dean throughout the class, but he fails. The teacher is doing the typical introduction-- _Yes my name is-, I teach English, we'll be going over-, here's the syllabus, read over it and get it signed and return it tomorrow_. Castiel only catches the gist, finding himself looking over every so often to see what Dean is doing, if Lisa is still whispering something to him across the desk that makes him give a mischievous smile, wondering when and if the teacher will tell them to please leave more than two inches between them because it is freaking all of the students (really just Castiel) out.

Even then, Castiel tries to concentrate, but finds himself focusing so intently on _not_ thinking about Dean that he just thinks about Dean even more. It's a vicious cycle, and Castiel pointedly looks out the window to avoid staring. This doesn't help, though, when Castiel realizes that the classroom overlooks the courtyard. He ends up looking at the spot where Dean had been perched earlier, looking down at Castiel and enthusiastically saying things that Castiel hadn't heard.

And, fuck, Castiel can allow himself one more look, because this was probably the last day that Dean would ever speak to him again. Of course, Dean would probably offer a friendly _Hello_ , because that's just how Dean is, but it won't be like it was when it was just the two of them. Dean was going to become That Popular Guy, and would stop associating himself with Castiel. Castiel could accept that. He had known it would happen either way.

So Castiel looks up at Dean, one more time, truly looking, and that all goes to shit because Dean is looking right back at him, and they lock eyes, and _Dean fucking winks_.

Sometimes life is just confusing.

Castiel wonders for a split second if Dean had something in his eye, if his normal blinking had just been messed up, but the small smile still on his face says otherwise. The sudden, not-so-subtle elbow in his side from Charlie, who had evidently borne witness to the situation, also seems to argue otherwise.

Castiel manages to muster up a sort of half smile directed towards Dean. It only slightly looked like a grimace, he hopes, but he can blame that on Charlie's elbow. He glances over at Charlie and sees her watching them, her eyes flicking back and forth between the pair, with the same expression on her face that she wears when watching that one BBC version of Sherlock Holmes. He isn't sure that's a good thing, judging by the things he'd heard from her about "shipping" and "pairings". So he scowls at her, giving her his best _I-swear-to-god-Charlie_ expression.

Charlie raised her eyebrows in something that probably translates to _I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about-I-am-a-perfectly-innocent-person-who-has-done-no-wrong_. Castiel resolutely resists the urge to kick her shins from underneath the desk. Luckily for Charlie, Castiel is a more or less classy human being, and settles for turning away from both his lovably obnoxious friend and the beautiful distraction that is Dean Winchester in order to face the teacher and pay attention.

Dean's wink acted as a cold splash of water to his face, and he can concentrate a bit more on the teacher now, although he still struggles to suppress his thoughts of _So wait, does he actually likes me or...?_

Unfortunately, the newfound alertness doesn't help much, because less than five minutes later, the class is dismissed and Castiel probably wouldn't remember the teacher's name if not for the fact that it is written on his schedule.

As they exit the classroom, Charlie grips his elbow with excited ferocity, dragging him away, practically squealing. Castiel doesn't get a chance to see what Dean does, and he tries to convince himself that he doesn't actually care. And that is kind of hilarious.

Next period is lunch, so Charlie continues pulling him down the hall, out the doors, to the courtyard, to the spot underneath one of the trees. It's the same place where Castiel had sat alone on the first day of his freshman year before Charlie marched right up, plopped right down, and made herself comfortable. Ever since, it had become their typical lunch-eating spot, just the two of them, until eventually it expanded to them _and_ Garth and Kevin, who had quickly become closely knit into what was and is their group of the socially awkward.

When they reach the spot, Kevin is already there, sitting comfortably on a sweater that he'd turned into some sort of seat on the ground to keep the itchy grass separated by a layer. On his lap is a thick, AP U.S. History textbook. He briefly looks up as Charlie and Castiel sit down, only to say "Shh. I'm working."

"You can't possibly already have homework. It's the first day!" Castiel says.

"I'm getting ahead while I can," he replies quickly before returning his attention back to the massive textbook.

"Good to see you too, Kevin," Charlie chuckles. Kevin manages to muster up a small smile, his eyes still trained on the book. This was greeting enough.

Charlie turns her attention to Castiel and smacks him on the arm. "Do you think you can escape talking about this? You didn't tell me that you were _mutually_ eye fucking! He's totally into you."

Garth appeared setting down his books and sitting down, criss-cross apple-sauce. "What's going on?"

"Castiel has a boyfriend," Charlie says plainly, at the same time as Castiel says "Nothing." The only difference is that Charlie speaks louder.

"But pause on that for just a second--" Charlie turns to narrow her eyes at Castiel, pointing a finger at him. "Don't think you're off the hook." She turns toward Garth and Kevin. "Long time no see, bitches!" She leans over to loop her arms around Garth in an awkwardly angled hug, then does the same to Kevin, who briefly moves away from his work in order to pat her back. "I would love to catch up, do the typical 'Hey how was your summer' and shit; but A, I already know how everything went, and B, there are more pressing matters." She turns toward Castiel.

Garth pulls a sandwich out of a brown paper lunch bag, giving the mysterious lunch meat that it contained a suspicious look. He lifts it up, sniffs it, and begins eating it with a shrug before asking, "Who is Castiel's new boyfriend you were talkin' about?" with his mouth full. His slight southern twang making the question sound like a drawl.

"He is _not_ my boyfriend--"

"Dean Winchester," Kevin speaks up, looking up from his book. From the way he looks down at it longingly, it must be physically painful for him to drag his eyes away. "The girls behind me in Calculus were already talking about him. I couldn't concentrate because they just kept-- _giggling_ \--" he says this like it's a dirty word. "--about some new 'Dean Winchester' and how gorgeous he was or whatever. Then in U.S. History another girl said they saw him in the courtyard with Castiel here. Of course, the girl she was talking to didn't know who Castiel was because he isn’t a musician or on the football team, which seem to be the only types of guys she cares about."

The small group stares at Kevin, quite possibly dumbfounded. Kevin glances between them, unsure as to why they were all staring.

"Since when do you keep up with gossip, Tran?" Charlie says, almost accusingly.

"Since I've been put in assigned seats in _two_ different classes in front of the Rubys!" he exclaims in obvious frustration. The response earns him a scandalized and overly-dramatic gasp from the others, even Castiel, in unison. "Both of them?" Charlie whispers in horror.

Kevin nods gravely. "They chew gum. And they _smack_ their gum. And they don't shut up. And Blond Ruby has already stolen three of my pencils, and Brunette Ruby uses them to poke me in the back of the head. Repeatedly."

They all hang their heads, allowing a moment of silence for Kevin and his slowly-but-surely waning sanity.

After a moment, before conversation picks up again, a voice comes from behind. "Whoa, who died?"

Castiel doesn't hesitate to answer--it's almost reflex. "Kevin's sanity, and his chance of getting an A in math or history."

It takes him approximately .007 seconds to realize that he recognized the voice who spoke. It takes him another two seconds to realize that Dean had stepped up to their group and dropped his stuff down. In another three seconds, Castiel is able to process the fact that Dean is now settling himself down, squeezing into the space between Castiel and Kevin. His knee isn't just _brushing_ Castiel's. It's pressed up against his.

It's a full five seconds before Castiel realizes that Charlie, Kevin, and Garth are all staring at him like he'd suddenly declared his undying love to the _Twilight_ saga. Except, not nearly as horrified and disgusted, but more _shocked_ and _Castiel-I-thought-I-knew-you-but-it-seems-I-do-not_. Castiel realizes that the response is not only toward Dean having joined them or the fact that he was sitting very very close to him, but also at the way Castiel had so casually responded, as if Dean’s voice alone could trigger some sort of easy confidence in him.

Castiel was relatively comfortable around his friends. He could laugh a little more, let himself loose a little bit, and he always felt like less of an outcast and social hermit around them. The same general rules that had previously only applied to these three--Charlie, Kevin, and Garth, and only after almost three years of friendship--now seemed to apply to Dean, after only a few days.

And hell, if that didn't massively freak Castiel out, then nothing would.

Dean was oblivious to both the group's shock and Castiel's sudden epiphany. He clears his throat, a not-so-subtle hint for Castiel to introduce him to everyone. Castiel quickly shakes himself back into focus.

"Uh, guys, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Charlie, Garth, and Kevin," he says stiltedly, gesturing to each person as he says their name.

Kevin is still gaping dumbly, and Charlie's face looks torn between cracking up in hysterical laughter and staring in shock at the new addition. It seems as though she is leaning toward the former.

Garth, however, is the first to recover. Of course, he was not incredibly phased in the first place. He had always been a very accepting person, going with the flow.

 _In another life, he could have easily been a hippie_ , Castiel's mind chimes in helpfully.

"Hey there, Dean, how's it hangin'?" Garth says, a dopey smile on his face. He then proceeds to lean over to Charlie,  and whispers, " _So is that Castiel's boyfriend, like we were talking about?_ " It is quite possibly the loudest whisper that Castiel has ever heard, and he knows without a doubt that Dean heard it. It was practically a stage whisper; if the kids sitting on the opposite end of the courtyard heard it, Castiel wouldn't be surprised.

"Ha ha, very funny, Garth," Castiel forces out with an even more forced smile, sounding overly enthusiastic for someone who doesn't usually talk this much.

Charlie, who had just started to regain her composure up until Garth opened his mouth, visibly shakes with contained laughter. "Garth is a joker. He's hilarious. He's the funniest student in the garrison. Ask anyone," she deadpans.

"That's definitely not a correct use of the word garrison--" Kevin interjects.

"Yes, I know. Let's say it's a metaphor."

Dean is watching this whole event carry on, eyes jumping around to the person speaking as if he's watching a tennis match. When Castiel glances at him, he sees the same trace of amusement that he'd seen when they had first met, just three days ago, after just witnessing Castiel singing along to Taylor Swift. Along with that amusement is a slight knowing smirk, as if he knows exactly what sort of effect he has on Castiel and he is fully equipped to harness that capability. It's more than a bit terrifying, and Castiel watches him carefully.

Well, he doesn't actually watch him _carefully_. He may possibly be full-on staring at him, which Anna has continuously informed him is creepy and that his "wide and intensely blue eyes" (her words, not his) do not do anything to ease the creepiness. Still, Castiel seems barely able to keep his eyes off of Dean. He recognizes the sound of conversation in the background, and tries to focus himself, averting his eyes. Kevin says something about getting ahead in history and "for the love of God shut up", and Charlie tries to make up for Kevin's rudeness with an unoriginal, "So how are you liking Lawrence?" and "How's your day been?"

Dean replies easily, showing no signs of irritation at the question that he's probably heard a dozen times in just the past hour.

Movement across the courtyard catches his eye--Lisa Braeden is there, waving Dean over. Dean looks up and, if Castiel isn't mistaken (it may just be wishful thinking), Dean's eyes show a flash of irritation. He excuses himself for "just a sec, I swear", and Castiel is disappointed before realizing that Dean left his bags, so he will definitely return. Of course, he doesn't have much time to reflect on that, because he's being bombarded by words from three excited and/or confused teens.

"You deserve more than a stereotypical 'macho' guy, Castiel," Kevin immediately argues, voice sounding more spirited than it had the whole lunch period.

At almost the same time comes Garth's "His eyes are real green."

And Charlie says, "So what the hell is going on with him and Lisa Braeden? You know, besides the whole stereotype of the bitchy head of the cheerleading squad dating the nice handsome guy who everybody wants."

Castiel turns to Charlie, answering her question first, mostly because he doesn't know how to respond to any of the other comments. "I don't know, they just met. Why don't you just ask him?" he asked, tone dripping with exasperated sarcasm.

"Wait, do you know what this means, Castiel? It means that you're Taylor Swift."

Castiel blinks. "What?" he asks. And he purposely does not mention the fact that Dean's first impression was of him singing to Taylor Swift.

"In the song 'You Belong With Me'."

Because Castiel doesn't know how to respond to this new idea which he will never, _ever_ admit to finding extremely accurate at the moment, he simply says, "Charlie, I know your music taste is bad, but _Taylor Swift_?"

Please ignore the irony. Seriously, please.

"I'm going to ask him what he intends for his relationship with Lisa," Charlie says with determination, ignoring Castiel's comment.

"Charlie, I swear to--"

"Well _you_ aren't gonna do it!"

"You can't just ask somebody something like that, you don't even _know_ Lisa, and you barely know Dean!"

"Would you prefer I ask what his intentions are with _you_?"

"Yes--I mean, no, _no_ , Charlie, don't you dare--"

"Am I interrupting something...?"

Castiel and Charlie both immediately shut up, heads whipping in unison toward Dean, who has reappeared and is beginning to settle back down next to Castiel.

"No," Castiel says, and it's all he can think to say.

"What's up with you and Lisa?" Charlie demands bluntly.

Dean answers, not noticing Castiel giving Charlie a black look that she diligently ignores. "What do you mean? I mean, she's nice, I guess?"

"But do you like her?"

Castiel resists the urge to put his face in his hands and roll around on the ground making gargling noises.

"Sure. I mean... She was cool at first. And she's, you know, hot. But she's not interesting like--" he cuts off, and Castiel is definitely not imagining the way his eyes flicker over to him very briefly. Dean clears his throat. "All she talks about is, like, shopping. It's freaking annoying. And there are these two other girls, Ruby and--I don't think I know the other girl's name--"

"Ruby?" Castiel supplies.

"No, that's the first one."

"There are two Rubys. They're practically the same person. It's terrifying," Garth elaborates.

"Yeah, well, with the three of them talking about absolutely nothing that actually makes sense to the male mind, I'm going crazy."

Kevin looks up, expression serious. "Two classes. Both of them. Right behind me," he says darkly.

"Yeah, yeah, my heart goes out to you both," Charlie says, completely without sympathy. She opens her mouth, about to ask something, and in the way she glances briefly at Castiel, he just _knows_ it will not be anything he likes. His back stiffens for a moment as he sees the words form on Charlie's lips, just about to be voiced, and there's a mischievous glint in her eye--

And the bell rings, saving Castiel's ass for the second time in one day, and Castiel wants to pray his thanks to whatever God is out there.

Kevin closes his books and doesn't even bother putting them in his backpack, just carrying them at his side, giving a fast nod in place of a goodbye before scurrying off toward whatever college level course he has next.

"That kid's gonna kill himself with school work," Dean remarked. Castiel hitches a smile because Dean already knows the deal after just one lunch period. He then turns to Castiel, looking directly at him. "Hey, Cas, d'you want a ride home from school, too?"

Castiel prides himself in not gaping or letting his mouth open and close like a fish. He does stutter though, not just at the offer but also at the continued use of Dean's nickname for him. A surge of warmth spreads over him, and he replies stiffly, "If it isn't too much trouble..."

Dean gave him a wide grin that only kind of maybe slightly left Castiel feeling a little dizzy. "Of course not. Meet me outside of the main entrance?"

Castiel nods dumbly, and then Dean is walking away.

Castiel and Charlie watch his back disappear behind the doors for a moment, and then simultaneously turning toward each other and freaking the fuck out.

Well, Charlie freaks the fuck out. Castiel mainly tries to keep her at least slightly calm.

" _Oh my god._ "

"Charlie--"

" _He's in love with you. You're in love with him,_ " she said it like it was fact, like it was gospel, and if Castiel tried to deny it, she would

"No he isn't, Charlie! We just met, and he's straight--and I'm not in love with him either! "

"Yes you are, and he is totally gay! He turned down _Lisa Braeden_. And he dissed the Rubys at the same time. He's a keeper."

"Charlie, we're both gonna be late to class," Castiel sighed, exasperated.

"Screw _class,_ " she says it like it's a dirty word. "But did you see--"

"Please just--"

"--how he looked over at you when he said 'she's not interesting like _Castiel is'_?"

"He didn't actually say that--"

"And-- _and_ he called you 'Cas'! He gave you a nickname!" She straightens up all of the sudden, eyes wide, looking almost disturbed. " _I_ don't even have a nickname for you. Can I call you Cas?" she asks, almost seriously.

"Sure--go ahead, but--I, uh, I have class?" Castiel said, voice unsure as if he doesn't know if he needs permission to leave or not."

"But, Cas--ooh, I actually really like that... 'Cas'," she said dreamily, before interrupting herself with an excited tone again "--he's giving you a ride home."

"It doesn't mean anything--he lives right next to me, it's only logical."

"Don't you go all Spock on me!"

"What's a Spock?" Castiel questions, head tilting and eyebrows furrowing. "I don't understand that reference--"

"That's not important! What is important is that you're getting a ride from school with him, which, from a guy like him, is basically him propositioning you."

"His brother gets a ride from him, too! I sit in the back seat--"

"Which is exactly where he wants you." Charlie winked deviously. "Back seat, probably _on_ your back, with your--"

" _Charlie, shut up!_ "

"Never!"

The sound of the bell ringing again, signaling the time in which all students should be in class.

"Dammit," Charlie curses. "Now we're late." Castiel growls in frustration at the irony and hypocrisy.

"Whose fault is that?" Castiel says, giving Charlie a glare that is admittedly half-hearted.

"The fault of your green-eyed boyfriend." She pauses. "At least it's the first day, so we can just say we got lost."

"That might have worked when we were freshmen..."

"Yeah, yeah. See you, Cas," she starts to walk in the direction she has to go to get to her next class, before turning and continuing as she walks away. "I really do like that. 'Cas'. Cas Cas Cas." She continues muttering the name in different tones and voices as she walks, leisurely making her way, taking her time.

Castiel hastily starts toward his next class and thanks all that is holy that Dean isn't in it. He definitely wouldn't be able to keep a straight face after all that with Charlie if he had to look at him.

#

His creative writing class goes by far too quickly for his liking, given that it's the only class that Castiel actually truly cares about. The teacher doesn't speak for long, and when he does it is slightly awkward, just introducing himself as Mr. Shurley ("But you can call me Chuck. Um. I guess. If you want.") before allowing them free writing time, saying that actual assignments will start soon. He sits next to a girl named Becky Rosen, who he'd seen around in previous years but had never met. She goes on and on talking about some story she's writing about two characters from a TV show. Castiel attempts to listen politely, but succeeds only in tilting his head so much in confusion that Becky says that he looks like a confused puppy.

When the bell rings, he rushes off to math, and is one of the first ones there. Other students fill in, including Lisa and the two Rubys. Lisa sits down, saving the seat next to her, and the Rubys sit behind her. Immediately they all turn toward each other and begin talking animatedly about something that Castiel can fairly assume is inane and boring. Castiel doesn't miss the way Lisa's eyes keep floating toward the door, and that's how he remembers that Dean is in this class. He smacks himself mentally to remind himself that his life does not revolve around that stupid new boy with his stupid green eyes, and takes out a notebook to start the warm-up problem that's written on the whiteboard.

He's focused on the work so much that he almost misses Dean walking through the door, and Lisa waving him over with a smile, gesturing to the seat beside her. He almost misses how Dean barely spares her a glance, heading right to the seat next to Castiel. "Heya, Cas," he greets him as he sets his things down and unceremoniously plops himself down on the seat.

So Castiel acts as if this was totally expected and normal and not as completely awesome as he is currently thinking it is. "Hello, Dean."

The bell rings, and the teacher begins his introduction, hands out textbooks, and then "teaches" by saying that everything they need to learn is written in the books, ask him if anyone needs help, and here are all of the problems they will do each day until the end of the first semester. Castiel sighs--he's one of _those_ teachers, who don't do anything but supervise and hope the students don't fail.

Dean takes one look at the warm-up problem and says, "What the hell is this crap?"

Castiel huffs out a little breathy laugh, the kind that is more like a fast exhalation than an actual laugh, and starts to explain. Class goes on, and they chat quite a bit. Sometimes it's just Castiel explaining a problem for him. They talk a little about everything and a little about nothing, asking little silly questions like they're in kindergarten playing get-to-know-you games.

When Castiel asks the inevitable _What's your favorite color_ , Dean looks directly into Castiel's eyes and says easily, "Blue, definitely." Castiel somehow manages to convince himself that he was just making eye contact, and it's a normal thing to do, and stop freaking out, and _dammit Charlie planted ideas into my brain._ Still, when Dean asks the same question right back at him, he surprises himself by saying green immediately, without any hesitations. Dean gives him a secret little smile, as if he knows exactly what Castiel means, and he has to try his hardest not to melt under the heat of his gaze.

Castiel is truly surprised, however, when he mentions a cheesy hospital drama that he's somehow become very unfortunately addicted to, and Dean's voice lowers as he asks, " _Dr. Sexy, M.D_?"

Castiel nods slowly, confused by Dean's suddenly peaked interest.

"You watch _Dr. Sexy_?" Dean repeats, almost incredulously.

Castiel nods again with raised eyebrows.

"Dude, I think I love you," Dean says and Castiel has to remind himself that he is _definitely joking_ and it's just an expression.

And then, because Castiel is such a dork, he mentions the fact that he owns all six seasons on DVD. A voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously similar to Charlie says, _This is the perfect excuse to invite him over. No, seriously. Come on, Cas._

Castiel takes a moment--a moment that feels much longer than it is, to give himself a mini pep talk that mainly consists of _pull yourself together, you idiot, and don't be a wimp_. Then he manages to get out, "Perhaps you could come over and we could view them together." And, sure, he might have said "perhaps" and "view" and it sounded excessively formal, but screw it, because he just invited a person over to his house, someone who he has only recently met and should not feel this comfortable around, someone who he finds painfully attractive, and he didn't even stutter.

"That'd be awesome!" Castiel lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and he's smiling a little. Dean smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck. "I, uh, actually own the soundtrack." Then he clears his throat, as if expecting Castiel to make fun of him for it.

"I thought you preferred classic rock?" Castiel answered, teasing.

"Let's say Anya Marina is a... guilty pleasure."

"I enjoy her song _Move You_ , but I prefer _Not a Through Street_."

"Really? Those are my favorites!" He pauses and glances around. He clears his throat and then, "But let's never tell anyone that. Ever."

"Of course, you have your reputation of a bad boy, ladies' man to uphold. Can't have you watching primetime medical dramas."

Dean laughs, but he fidgets just slightly, as if he wants to say something. He doesn't.

They continue talking, and Castiel is surprised again at the easiness of it all, and hopes that this actually lasts, and isn't just Dean wanting someone to hang out with--someone who doesn't constantly talk about shopping and guys and gossip--so that he doesn't seem like a loner.

The class ended far too soon, and Castiel is surprised that he actually got quite a lot of work done, even with all of the talking he did. He packs up his belongings, as does Dean. As Dean turns to walk away, he says, "See you later, Cas," with a grin. Castiel smiles back without realizing it, just at the reminder that they would be meeting up again.

In the hallway on his way to his last class, Castiel passes Charlie. He simply says, "He watches _Dr. Sexy_."

Charlie's mouth forms a perfect 'O' for just a moment before breaking out into a grin. "And you still think he's straight?"

Castiel tries to form some sort of argument, but it is pretty much a proven fact that _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ is a show for women who've reached menopause, and the occasional gay guy. So he settles for attempting to give her an angry glare, but he isn't honestly that annoyed. She just sticks her tongue out at him and continues down the hall.

He shares AP United States History with Garth and Kevin (who is already three chapters ahead of the class), so it isn’t as completely agonizingly horrible as it could be. They're given homework--ten pages to read and take detailed notes on from their textbooks. There will be a test next class over the reading. The class groans, but then, they did sign up for a college level class, so what did they really expect?

He was a little excited to see Dean again for a ride home, even though Sammy would be there and _nothing would happen_ , despite what Charlie seemed to think (as she had said) and what Garth and Kevin apparently seemed to think (as seen in Garth's over-exaggerated wink and Kevin's sort of warning glare). He also felt a bit like a thirteen year old girl for feeling excited about it, but he decided that he doesn't really care much about that.

The inner thirteen year old girl was currently squealing something about _ohmygod I have a ride home from school with a hot guy and he has a_ car _and oh em gee_. Externally, however, Castiel gives his friends a parting smile before heading toward the stairwell that will lead him to the main entrance.

When he gets there, Dean is waiting, standing a bit away from the doors to avoid the flow of students that are spilling from the school. He raises a hand in greeting, and when Castiel meets him at where he stands, and doesn't even get to greet him before Sam approaches. Immediately, the younger Winchester begins animatedly detailing each of his classes, teachers, and classmates. That kid had a _lot_ of energy, Castiel noted. Dean listens carefully, seeming genuinely interested as they begin to walk toward the Impala. Castiel thinks that he should probably feel like the third wheel, but he doesn't. It feels just right.

Castiel is surprised that when Sam reaches for the door to the front side passenger seat, Dean gives him a look and says, "How 'bout you let the big kids sit up front?"

"Oh, I don't need--" Castiel tries to decline politely.

Sam shakes his head, puts a hand on the back door that Castiel is trying to open and says, "No big deal, go ahead."

Castiel smiles and opens the door, sitting down swiftly. Setting his backpack down is a relief; it's already heavy with binders and textbooks, even on the first day of school. Dean turns the car on, startling the loud engine to life with a turn of a key in ignition. Immediately after, he turns on the radio, blasting it again. Castiel only slightly flinches. He can't help but smile in amusement as Dean starts drumming on the steering wheel as he eases the car out of the parking space and toward the main roads. After a minute, Dean even starts singing along.

Castiel isn't sure how Dean can be so easily confident. But then, Dean has already heard Castiel sing. Very badly. To Taylor Swift. So he supposes it is fair.

"You like this song," Castiel observes. Dean doesn't slow or stop or quiet his singing, just shoots Castiel a grin. "What is it?"

This, however, grabs Dean's attention. He stops singing and looks over at Castiel. "Have you never heard it?"

Castiel shrugs helplessly.

When Dean turns to look at Castiel this time, he stares with disbelief, his eyes diverted from the road for a bit too long, only prompted to direct his attention to driving when Sam kicks the back of his seat and says "You're going to kill us all!"

Dean turns toward the road again, but then again looks at Castiel. "You've never heard this." It is a statement that looks like it's uncomfortable with leaving Dean's mind.

Castiel nods in confirmation. He still does not understand why Dean is making a big deal out of it.

"It's 'Back in Black'," he says, as if that would change anything.

Castiel stares blankly.

"It's _AC/DC_."

Again, Castiel shrugs.

"You're shitting me."

"I am not."

"You've never heard--you've _never heard of AC/DC_?"

"Uh... No?"

"That ain't right."

"I... apologize?" Castiel glances backward toward Sam as if for help, but even Sam seems genuinely surprised.

"Have you heard anything good? Zeppelin? Metallica? Maybe even Kansas?"

Castiel shakes his head, at a complete loss. He's half certain that Dean is just saying random words now.

"Def Leppard? Rush? _The Rolling Stones_?"

Yeah, he's definitely just saying random words.

"That's it," Dean says. "Sometime this week, you are coming over to my house, and I am going to educate you in the art of classic rock and fine music."

"What _do_ you listen to?" Sam's voice pipes up from behind.

Castiel glances at Dean, only kind of a little bit afraid of being judged for the music he likes. "Um. The Beatles. Some folk. And indie."

Dean doesn't judge, but he does add in, "And the occasional Taylor Swift."

Castiel flushes, "I actually do not typically enjoy her music. My brother, Gabriel--"

"Excuses, excuses," Dean mocks, shaking his head as if in shame.

"My brother switched my music around. I don't _actually_ enjoy it."

"I don't know, Cas, you certainly looked like you were enjoying it," Dean says skeptically, giving Castiel a sideways, shit-eating grin.

"I feel like I'm missing something," Sam says from the back of the car, and Castiel can't help but laugh.

Dean turns up the radio again, but still tries to shout over the music to Castiel to explain exactly why this song is the most badass of all songs in existence. Castiel can practically hear Sam rolling his eyes exaggeratedly, so it is clear that he's heard this explanation dozens of times. Castiel nods along, paying attention studiously. He certainly doesn't dislike the music that Dean is so enthusiastic about, but he finds himself enjoying Dean's voice talking animatedly more than he does the song.

Before he knows it, Dean is pulling up to a stop in front of Castiel's house. He turns a knob on the radio to lower the music just long enough to say, "See you around, Cas." Sam pipes up with a goodbye, and Castiel thanks Dean for the ride before getting out. He heads toward his house, and the Impala pulls away and continues down the road to circle around to Dean's house. Castiel heads inside for what's likely to be a long night of homework and trying desperately to concentrate. He sighs as he opens the door.

Dean Winchester will be the end of him.


	2. I'm Only Me When I'm With You / Everything Has Changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flow is a bit different from here on out. It is more like a series of snapshots than one continuous... thing, as it was in the last chapter. Okay. Uh. Yeah.

_Well, you drive me crazy half the time_

_The other half I'm only trying to let you know_

_That what I feel is true._

_And I'm only me when I'm with you._

  


It wasn't like Castiel was _waiting_ for him. He wasn't honestly expecting him. He may have glanced out the window a few times, with a secret hope that he would be there. But, truthfully, he did not expect the sleek black car to pull up to a stop in front of his house.

Even so, it did. Castiel shrugs his overcoat on and shoulders his backpack. His hand is on the doorknob, and he's about to leave, when Anna and Gabe both simultaneously appear _out of freaking nowhere_ , spinning Castiel around again to face them.

"Who's that?" Anna demands. Except, it's not demanding like a mom would be, more demanding like a girl who is dying to hear the latest gossip. She crosses her arms.

"A friend," Castiel answers vaguely. Anna raises her eyebrows. "Dean Winchester. He lives behind us."

Gabriel smirks and holds out a hand toward Anna, who grumbles, but pulls out a ten dollar bill and presses it into his hand. Castiel's head tilts in confusion.

"I told you the rumors were true!" Gabriel raises the money in triumph before folding it up and putting it in his pocket. From the same pocket, he pulls out a Twix bar and starts to unwrap it. "Anna over here swore they weren't true, but I knew it."

"How are there already rumors--"

"That Winchester kid is hot stuff," Gabriel says, and it's weird hearing him talk like that when he's barely _fourteen years old_. "And it's a small town. Of course people are talking."

Anna says, "I heard people saying he was hanging out with you, but I didn't think it was true because you're kind of--"

"A weirdo?" Castiel interjects calmly.

"I was going to say shy."

Castiel nods, unfazed either way. "Yes, well, I'm going to be late.” He’s conscious that he’s keeping Dean waiting and doesn’t want to make them late.

"Oh, please, he's early, we have time," Anna says, placing a hand on the door to keep him from opening it.

" _Anna_ ," Castiel says with exasperation.

"You like him," Anna says, and it isn't a question.

"He is a generally kind person," Castiel answers carefully.

"No, you _like_ him like him," Anna elaborates.

"Anna, you are eighteen, not twelve."

"But you do!" Anna insists. "Does he like you back?"

"Is he gay?" Gabriel asks loudly.

"Oh my god, I don't know, and I'm leaving now!" Castiel pushes them both away from the door so that he can open it, practically running toward the waiting car.

When the door closes behind him, he doesn't see Anna and Gabriel exchange looks.

"I give them six weeks, tops," Anna says.

"Oh please," Gabriel laughs. "It's gonna take them _at least_ until Christmas to get their shit together."

"You are so on."

 

#

Dean had gone and developed a stupid crush on an angel.

Dean is not gay. Dean Winchester is a ladies man, both self-proclaimed and otherwise. And Dean--Dean liked boobs. Seriously.

So _maybe_ he finds Castiel a little bit attractive. You know, if "a little bit" is synonymous with "monumentally and ridiculously." But that doesn't make him _gay_. Come on, anyone would find him attractive, with his pure _sex_ hair, all rumpled and sticking out in all directions, so dark that he would almost mistake it for black if not for the way the sun shone on it and emphasized the lighter tones of brown.

And his eyes, I mean, he doesn't have to be gay to appreciate the fact that they look like they are made of the fucking ocean. They are so impossibly, _spectacularly_ blue.

Not to mention the way he tilted his head in confusion sometimes, scrunching his eyebrows together. He managed to look exactly like a puppy, and it was pretty goddamn adorable. Anyone would think that, right?

So maybe Dean is a little gay.

Maybe not entirely gay. Maybe just gay for dorky guys named after angels. Either way.

Dean knows he isn't bad to look at. He knows that he could have any girl in that school. Hell, he could probably have Cas if he wants. He could have had Lisa, easy.

Lisa is one of the girls who Dean would usually go for, without hesitation. She’s pretty, popular, definitely available and interested, if the way she shamelessly flirts with him has anything to say. She’s even _nice_ , which is more than he can say for a lot of girls her type.

She’s gorgeous too, Dean could see that much. Typically, that would be enough for him. But for some reason, when she opens her mouth and starts talking about shopping and celebrities and whatever gossip, he just can’t tune it out. It’s the single most irritating thing in the world to him.

Lisa is also the type of girl whose idea of a relationship consists of sex, more sex and using the other as arm candy to show off. Dean’s normally okay with that. He'd had plenty of relationships like that, and it had worked out fine. Now, though, something about a relationship like that just doesn't feel right, especially since Dean could barely stand to listen to Lisa's pointless jabbering about who cheated on who and who is pregnant or whatever.

It’s all Cas's fault, he decides. He had talked to Cas, that weirdo, Cas with his angel name and his knowledge about different types of coats, and his _lack_ of knowledge about pop culture. He’s unintentionally hilarious, and he’s _interesting._

He caught Dean's interest. So at lunch, it had been way too easy to wave off Lisa's offered seat at what was definitely considered the "cool" table and wedge himself instead between Cas and his friends.

The sound of the passenger side door swinging open is what shakes him from his thoughts. Castiel slides in, and his hair is just as sexily ruffled as Dean remembered. He only sort of wants to run his hands through it.

Okay, he _really_ wants to. But he restrains himself, because that would be really weird and really gay. Not that he has a problem with gay. It's just that _he_ isn't gay.

"Hello, Dean." Dean really loves how formal Cas is without even thinking. He also really loves the deep, gravelly voice that comes out of the boy, the one that had genuinely surprised him the first time he'd heard it.

"Hey, Cas," Dean replies. He tries to sound casual, and not at all like he'd just been thinking of his sexiness and his intrigue.

Sam, from the back seat, says the same thing. Dean is a little proud that his nickname for Cas has already caught on, at least with Sammy. Judging by the little smile Cas gives them both at the use of it, Cas is pleased too.

Dean waits until he's settled. Once Cas sets his backpack on the floor and relaxes at least slightly, he starts to drive.

Cas speaks up, "I have to say, I was not expecting another ride this morning."

Which was odd, because hadn't Dean said he would give him a ride again this morning?

No, he definitely hadn't. But it had never occurred to Dean _not to_. It all seemed way too natural. Half of his brain is freaking out. What if Cas had had plans, and had only accepted the ride because he is freakishly polite?

 _No. Shut up, Winchester. Pull yourself together,_ he tells himself. And then, for good measure, _you're awesome_. So he puts on a confident grin and says, "How else are you going to cram in extra good-music-education?"

Cas smiles, so he figures it's a good answer.

 _Oh yeah_ , Dean smiles to himself, turning up the radio and telling Cas exactly what he thought of Led Zeppelin. _You're awesome_.

 

#

 

They manage to find a routine and fall into it quickly. Dean picks Cas up every morning. Cas slides in with a "Hello, Dean," and Dean replies, "Hey, Cas." Just like that. Sam got the message that he was forever banished to the backseat, and he has no problem hitting Dean with a full power bitchface about it every morning.

They sit with each other in study hall and actually get work done, for the most part. Castiel helps Dean with his English and History, and Dean tries to help Cas with his math and science. Except Cas doesn't really need much help, because he's a freaking genius and it really isn't fair. They talk, not so much about themselves or anything remotely serious, but about music and movies and TV shows--like Dr. Sexy. Castiel always somehow manages to make Dean laugh, and it's usually not on purpose, usually because of Cas's tendency to take things far too literally and to miss ninety percent of Dean’s pop culture references. Their study hall supervisor has had to scold them for laughing too loud quite a few times.

Dean sits with Castiel and his friends for lunch every day, to the point where it isn't just "Castiel and his friends", but _his_ friends as well. When he discovers that Charlie likes Star Trek, they immediately hit it off, and that's that. He thinks Garth is a weirdo in the most hilarious way, and he says so, right before saying, "You know, Garth, you don't suck." When Garth says with complete seriousness and joy, "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me!", Dean cracks up.

Dean can sense that Kevin didn't like him at first, but he can feel him beginning to warm up to him. He's half expecting him to corner him and give a "If you break his heart, I'll break your legs" speech (except for the fact that he and Cas aren't actually dating, and the fact that Kevin, despite his genius, is practically afraid of his own shadow).

In both math and English Dean sits with Cas, and he does not miss the looks he gets from Lisa. They vary--sometimes confusion, as if she's wondering why the fuck anyone would choose the awkward quiet kid over her, and sometimes accusing, as if she's offended that he chose the awkward quiet kid over her. They're actually pretty good in this class, talking only about the actual work (mostly), seeing as Cas thrives in English and Dean is not half bad at math.

Dean gives Cas a ride home from school too, after meeting outside the front doors with Sam. Sometimes Cas insists that Sam take shotgun, and Sam is always incredibly, almost hilariously grateful.

For the first few days--the first few weeks, really--Cas seems surprised every time Dean pulls up in front of his house or sits down next to him in class or at lunch, as if he thought each time would be the last. Eventually, though, Castiel stops looking surprised to see Dean almost constantly, and starts looking more like it's normal. Dean doesn't know what was going on in that weirdo's mind to make him think that Dean's constant presence was for a reason other than him genuinely enjoying Cas's company, but he's glad that it stopped eventually.

Really, everything falls into place pretty damn perfectly. Dean half expects something to go horribly wrong, but it doesn't.

 

#

After school one day, Dean drives straight past Castiel's house. Sam is staying after for a club--one of the multitude that he takes part in. It was either the GSA or the debate team, or the mock trial, or... No, fuck it, Dean can't keep track of this for shit--so it's just him and Cas.

"Dean, you just passed my house," Cas observes. Real genius, that one.

"I did," Dean responds, swerving the car around, pulling into the driveway of his own house. "Hope you aren't busy..." He wouldn't be.

"I'm not."

"Awesome." He parks the car and switches off the engine, opening his door and swinging his feet out, standing up in a smooth movement. "Your music education... your _musication_..." he laughs at his own joke, "is no longer limited to the short drives between school," Dean announces, gesturing dramatically and with grand flourish. Castiel snorts, and it's possibly the only thing that Castiel has ever done or will ever do that could be described as "undignified".

"We are going inside, we are going upstairs, and we are listening to some music. Good music, none of that girly shit you and Sam listen to."

"I do not listen to 'girly shit'--" Castiel starts, semi-defiantly.

"Which Taylor Swift song was it that you were belting out again?"

Castiel blushes, and Dean grins because he is literally the most adorable thing. But he'll never admit to thinking that. Ever. "I was not 'belting it out', I was singing quietly to myself."

"I think it was _Love Story_. Yeah, it was actually."

"But I was not loud at all!"

"I could hear you over the lawn mower," Dean deadpans, eyebrows raised.

"That means nothing," Cas sniffs defensively.

"I'm pretty sure you were dancing, too," teases Dean.

"Dean, I swear to--"

Dean interrupts by crooning, "' _It's a love story, baby just saaaaay_ \--"

"Dean Winchester, I swear, I will smite you," Cas threatens.

"You'll _smite_ me?" Dean repeats.

"Yes. That is precisely what I'll do."

Dean laughs and opens the front door, holding it wide and gesturing over exaggeratedly for Cas to go in. Cas rolls his eyes and steps inside, glancing around.

This is the first time Cas has ever come inside of Dean's house. He looks around, and Dean suddenly feels very vulnerable. He knows there isn't much to see--it's still messy and not fully unpacked, having moved in not even two months ago. There aren't many home-y feeling knick-knacks, no photos on the walls or anything. The living room leads in from the foyer, and there is a wide archway rather than a door leading to the kitchen, so the two rooms are connected and open. The stairs to the second floor are in the living room. Cas looks around, face blank as he takes it all in. He gives only a small nod. Dean didn't honestly expect anything else, so he leads him upstairs to his room.

The enormity of the situation hits him. He's leading Cas up to his room. His room, in the empty house, that will stay empty for another two hours at the least. He figures Cas, whose mind is as far from the metaphorical gutter as it comes, is not thinking anything that Dean is.

And, Christ, Dean should really _stop_ thinking the thoughts that he is thinking. This is _Cas_ , who Dean would easily say is his best friend here in Lawrence--best friend, maybe _ever_. He'd never formed many long lasting friendships. They'd either moved away too quickly, or Dean hadn't bothered. But here, they had an actual house, not just a crappy motel room with suspicious stains on the bed or broken air conditioners. Here was where John claimed they'd be until Sammy graduated, long after Dean had left for college or to live on his own with whatever job he could land.

So it's needless to say that he really should _not_ be thinking about the fact that they'll be home alone in his bedroom. A room. That has a bed in it.

 _Goddammit, Dean, get a hold of yourself_.

"Are you alright, Dean?"

Castiel's voice shook him from his thoughts, and he realized he'd probably tensed during his internal conflict of _I-really-need-to-stop-fantasizing-about-my-best-friend-and-the-many-ways-that-one-could-put-that-queen-sized-bed-to-use_. "Yeah--" Dean notices his voice is about an octave too high, and clears his throat. "Yeah. I'm--fine. Yeah."

Cas looks at him carefully, skeptically, before sighing, with a slight shake to his head. It's his patented _I Will Never Understand You, Dean Winchester_ sigh, the one that Dean generally finds hilarious.

Dean opens the door to his room, walking right in and allowing Cas to follow. Immediately he turns to him and, with a grin, says, "Shall we begin?"

 

#

So Castiel is in Dean's room. And they're in the house alone.

Okay.

He's only sort of freaking out. It's "only sort of" because he knows that nothing is going to happen, because they are _friends_ and that's it. Dean doesn't like him that way, it would just screw everything up, and Castiel should really get passed this whole thing as soon as possible. But, you know, still freaking out, just a little bit.

Either way, he's in Dean's room, in his house. It feels wildly personal for some reason, even though there isn't anything personal to be revealed in the house.

Maybe that's just it. There are no photos on the walls, no memories or pieces of Dean's past that could reveal anything about him. Not having fully unpacked yet was one thing, but this was something else entirely. It was painfully blank. Even Castiel with his broken family--the father that left them, the mother that has to work nonstop to pay for it all and the tension between Anna and their mom whenever she's home--had some good memories to hang on the walls or leave on the bedside table. Dean's room--the entire house, really--felt empty.

What his room does have is a large queen sized bed, pushed up against a window. There are no electric lights turned on, the room instead illuminated by sunlight streaming through the window. The floors are hardwood and the walls are off-white. Closet doors hang open, revealing clothes that had been hastily put away without care or organization. Cardboard boxes sat opened and only half-emptied across the floor. Dean doesn't seem the least bit self-conscious about the mess. But then, Castiel doesn't mind, so he doesn't need to be.

"Gimme your iPod," Dean says, holding out a hand and wiggling his fingers for Castiel to drop something in. He stares at his outstretched hand quizzically for a moment. "Phone, iPod, whatever, we're gonna start with you showing me what kind of music _you_ like."

Castiel gives him a questioning look but obliges, pulling out his old mp3 player, the one he'd bought himself back in middle school, banged up but functioning. Dean gestures for him to sit down (on Dean's bed. Inhale. Exhale. Do not hyperventilate.) before he plugs it into some sort of sound system. As soon as it is attached to something, it starts automatically playing music.

Castiel thinks he might die on the spot, because, yep, that is definitely Taylor Swift's _Everything Has Changed,_ blasting loudly.

Dean cracks up, "You totally love Taylor Swift, you dirty lying liar!"

"My brother Gabriel mixed in Taylor Swift with all of my playlists," Castiel insists.

Dean flopped down on the bed next to him, laughing still as he says, "It's not half bad."

"Seriously?"

"No, of course not. I like _Zeppelin,_ man."

They both laugh more than necessary, and Castiel can't help but glance over at Dean. The sunlight is right on his face, illuminating every different color in Dean's eyes, making him see how light Dean's hair really is. Dean is looking right back and, fuck, Castiel tries to focus on something else, something aside from Dean's eyes watching him and the fact that he's so close that he can see thousands of golden freckles on his skin, tries not to think about how easy it would be to lean up and just--

He closes his eyes and exhales, focusing his mind on the music rather than the sound of his own heart beating. That isn't such a good idea, though, because--

" _All I've seen since eighteen hours ago_

_Is green eyes and freckles and your smile_

_In the back of my mind making me feel right--_ "

Nope. Definitely not that. Castiel tries not to appear as frantic as he feels when he sits up suddenly, trying to ignore the fact that Dean is still watching him with those green eyes that are twinkling in amusement, and the sight smile pulling up at the corner of his lips, his really really nice, pink, soft looking lips that probably taste like--

"So, um, Led Zeppelin?" Castiel rarely gets this flustered, but he supposes that it is just something that happens with Dean.

_"I just wanna know you, know you, know you._

_'Cause all I know is you said hello_

_And your eyes looked like coming home--"_

Castiel disconnects his iPod. "All joking aside, I do enjoy the Beatles and other music of that variety." He is in awe at how he can keep his voice totally level, especially when he can _still_ feel Dean watching him intently.

He feels his gaze snap away at the same time as he hears him stand up, as if Dean had snapped out of a trance. "Right." Dean walks over to one of the boxes and rummages through it before pulling out a CD, and holding it up for a moment for Castiel to see before opening it. "Then let's start at the beginning." He takes the CD out of its case, puts it in, and presses play.

 

#

 

That weekend, Castiel is sitting at his desk writing a paper, when the doorbell rings. And even though he is upstairs, doing homework, Gabriel's voice shouts from below, "Castiel! Get the door!" He sounds like he's probably less than ten feet away and sitting on the couch. He grumbles, but he gets up, goes downstairs, and swings the door open.

Charlie is standing there, holding a bulging bag full of boxy looking items. "I have all eight movies, a box full of movie theater butter flavored popcorn, and a Gryffindor scarf.  We're pulling an all nighter."

Castiel stands in the doorway, blinking in a state of _wait, what?_ for a moment. Charlie rolls her eyes and pushes right on past him, heading toward the living room and plopping down on the couch, feeling far too at home than she really has any right to, even though she had come over very frequently over the past few years. Castiel closes the door and wanders over.

"It's okay, I wasn't busy anyway," Castiel says drily.

"Perfect!" Charlie grins. Castiel is unsure whether she missed his sarcasm or is simply ignoring it. Anna greets Charlie from over in the kitchen, where she is doing homework.

"Alright, so, typically I'd demand you read the books first, but seeing as I've been doing that _throughout the span of our entire friendship_ and you've continued to steadfastly ignore this suggestion, you're just gonna watch the movies. And seeing as you probably wouldn't do this either if I just asked, I decided, you don't get a choice! We are _watching_ this shit." She pauses for air, turns to Castiel suddenly, and says, "Hi, by the way."

"Uhh..."

"Let me guess, you've been doing homework since you've woken up?"

"Yes," Castiel admits. "I don't see a problem with focusing on my academic materials."

"The problem is that you have a hot guy living behind you who is totally into you, and you could spend your time _far_ better, if you know what I mean," Charlie laughs, nudging him with her elbows. Castiel blushes, and hears both Anna and Gabriel laughing. He resists the urge to yell at them both.

"Shut up, Charlie. Just show me the stupid movies."

Charlie gasps dramatically, a hand flying up to her chest. " _You take that back_ ," she whispers, scandalized and truly offended.

Castiel doesn't reply, just gives her a look that says _You_ literally _barged into my house and demanded we do this, so let's just do this before I murder you in cold blood_. Charlie shrugs, stands up, goes to the DVD player, and opens the first movie box. "Start popping popcorn!" she directs.

By the time Castiel has popped two bags of popcorn, one for himself and Charlie and one for Gabriel and Anna (because he's just a really great brother), Charlie has the movie turned on and paused. She flicks off the lights for good measure, even though it has little effect what with the sun coming in through the windows, before pressing play and sitting down. The music begins, and she pulls a red and gold scarf from her bag. She lifts it up, silently offering it to Castiel, who shakes his head. She puts it on, and they settle in to watch.

At some point during the movie, Anna and Gabriel disappear to wherever, Gabriel probably to his room, Anna to a friend's house. Castiel is watching the movie intently, as if there will be a quiz on it afterward, and, knowing Charlie, this is not an unfair assumption. Charlie occasionally interjects a fact about an actor, or something that was in the book but not in the movies, or something that is "obvious foreshadowing". When she points out that the wise old wizard who is obviously based off of Merlin had been revealed to be gay, Castiel watches with all new interest.

They get halfway through the second movie, and it's around four in the afternoon, when the doorbell sounds again. Castiel pauses the movie and stands up, stretching as he walks over to the door. He opens it and is almost dumbfounded when he sees Dean standing there, looking just slightly uncomfortable in a way that could easily be described as adorable, except for the fact that Dean would probably throw a fit and spend an hour trying to emphasize his masculinity if he heard himself called that.

"Hello, Dean." At the sound of Castiel's greeting, Charlie leaps off the couch and to the door, as if she can sense that there is an opportunity for her to put her matchmaking skills to use.

"Dean!"

Dean looks a little surprised, but smiles at both of them. "Hey!"

"Did you need something?" Castiel asks. It isn't demanding or rude or anything, just right-down-to-business and a even a little concerned.

"Oh, no, it's not really important." He scratches at the back of his neck in what Castiel has come to realize is a nervous gesture.

Charlie grins almost wickedly, eyes flashing mischievously. "We were just having a Harry Potter movie marathon, 'cause Cas hasn't seen any of them yet. Well, now he's seen the first one. And half of the second one. Still. Do you wanna join us?"

Dean looks to Castiel for permission, and he barely even hesitates to smile and nod as a confirmation of the invitation.

They go inside and Charlie is the first to sit down. Castiel can tell that Charlie definitely sat in the armchair, leaving the couch open for just him and Dean, on purpose. He narrows his eyes at her, and she winks very conspicuously. Dean doesn't seem to notice (or, if he does, he doesn't care), and sits down on the couch.

Dean has never been in his house before, but he doesn't seem to be making it a big deal. He barely gives it a glance, and he looks extremely comfortable, less like he's in a house he's never been in and more like he's been living here for his entire life. It doesn't bother Castiel at all, but rather sets him at ease. He sits down next to Dean on the couch, and they are definitely not that close, but it seems like it. The inches between them feel simultaneously like miles and milimeters.

"You wanna start the movie, Cas? Any day now..." Charlie prompted, and he tries not to glare at her, instead reaching down to grab the TV remote and start the movie again. Dean watches, giving his full and undivided attention to the screen. Castiel indulges himself, sneaking glances over every so often, mainly because Dean isn't paying him much attention and so he _can_ , without getting caught. (Dean is watching intently, even mouthing some of the lines along with it. It's the most adorably dorky thing Castiel has ever seen.) Of course, he also sneaks glances every so often because the space between them on the couch seems to be dwindling every few minutes. By the end of the second movie, Dean is _rightthere_. And he knows that _he_ hadn't been the one shifting, so Dean must have.

Castiel shakes his head, standing up to change the movie. He sits back down, and notices that, while there is still some distance there, it is significantly less than there had been to start with.

And, _Jesus_ , why is Castiel so suddenly hyper-aware of the amount of distance between him and his friend? _Friend_. That's it. Why is this a thing that he has to remind himself of?

The next movie starts, and Castiel tries and mostly succeeds at silencing his brain. He needs to focus on the stupid movie, because he can already hear the millions of references that Charlie will be making, and can visualize her offended face if and when he fails to recognize it.

It gets later, watching the movies studiously. They take breaks in between to stretch, discuss the movies, and occasionally to get food. Castiel has already witnessed a heated debate about whether or not Hermione is the greatest character in the movie, whether Dumbledore is gay for Harry, and a whole plethora of other things that Castiel hardly understands. Both of the others get very into it, and Castiel can't help but smile while watching his two best friends getting along so well.

They're nearing the end of the fourth movie when Castiel realizes how late it is--its almost ten o'clock, and they've _literally_ spent all day watching Harry Potter. He stifles a yawn, tries to focus on Harry, Harry going into a maze thing, Harry running, and... (Dean is really close to him. Like, really close. As in, legs and shoulders brushing each other's. Okay.)

It's not really that late, but Castiel has always gotten tired really easily when watching movies. Charlie would probably forgive him if he closed his eyes for just a minute. He really can't help his drooping eyes--Dean's shoulder is really warm, so he might as well just...

#

 

Dean loves Harry Potter, okay? Call him a dork if you want, but he does. He remembers way back when Sammy was in third grade, reading the books, and Dean had teased him and called him something along the lines of "Dumbledork". Sammy had rolled his eyes. A week later, Sam had finished reading and rented the first movie. He asked Dean to watch it with him, and since Dean is a total pushover when it comes to Sammy, he did, and that was all she wrote.

So, watching Harry Potter, in a dark room, next to Cas. That was definitely not a problem. He'd only come over in the first place to ask if Cas wanted to hang out, he could show him some more music if he wanted, or anything really. He was just really freaking bored and constantly thinking about Cas.

This was better. Charlie was there, yeah, so nothing could really happen. Still, Castiel didn't seem to notice or care that Dean shifted _ever-so-slightly_ closer toward him every once in awhile. For the most part, Dean focused on the movie intensely (he really freaking loved those movies), but he did, very very occasionally, steal a short look at Cas. He didn't seem to notice. Either way, Cas was looking especially adorable as he watched the movie with furrowed eyebrows and a determined look in his eye, as if he had decided that he would watch this movie and no one could possibly stop him. And his hair was even more messy than usual from hanging out on the couch all day. Dean had no complaints.

It is almost ten at night, just at the end of the fourth movie, when he feels a warm weight on his shoulder. He looks over and down, a bit startled, and sees Castiel's head resting on his shoulder. He feels his own heart soften as he takes in Castiel's peaceful looking face, his eyelashes fluttering against pale cheeks, all of his features looking completely relaxed. And, shit, yep, Dean is definitely gay, because he just keeps right on looking down at Cas and his thick dark lashes, soft pink lips, hair that looks jet black in the darkened room. He doesn't even consider nudging Cas away as an option.

Then he remembers that they are not alone, and his head whips around to look in Charlie's direction.

And she's watching them, grinning like she's won a prize. Dean blushes furiously-- _actually, honest to god, blushes_ \--but doesn't try to move Cas or put distance between them. It's because he doesn't want to wake him. Definitely. Not at all because he sort of _likes_ the feeling of Castiel pressed close to him or the intimacy of it.

"He likes you, too, you know," Charlie whispers softly.

Dean tries not to freak out too much at the way she put it so bluntly. "I--he--what?" Dean asks wisely.

"Don't even say you don't like him like that, don't say you 'don't swing that way' because, come on, you've got it so bad."

"I don't--he's not..." Dean has no idea how to phrase this. Apparently, he also has no idea how to form a complete sentence.

"He is. You're both emotionally constipated and stupidly convinced that the other doesn't like you. It's getting annoying."

"I..."

"Yeah, okay, let's just finish this movie and let you think about that. I don't wanna wake him up." she pauses, glancing over at Cas thoughtfully. "He's kind of adorable when he's asleep."

Dean can't help but nod in agreement, looking down at Cas's sleeping face again one last time. He turned back to the movie, but he was definitely not paying much attention. Charlie has to be kidding, or delusional, because there's no way that that adorable, sweet, hilarious boy would like him--barely scraping through high school, destined to go on to work at a salvage yard or a garage, nothing special.

Either way, he tries to focus on the movie, because, as Dean always does, he decides to deal with all of this chick flick girly shit later. At some point, surely.

When the fourth movie ends, they call it quits ("For now," Charlie ensures. "Still four to go, and Cas missed the end of that one..."). Charlie packs up her DVDs, and Dean tries to get out from underneath Cas's sleeping head without waking him. He can't help but take the blanket off of the back of the couch and drape it gently over him, and he thanks every god in existence for the awesome gay best friend that is Charlie Bradbury, because she doesn't say a thing about it, nor does she comment further on anything regarding the two of them.

They both leave, exchanging "good night"s before heading out. Half of Dean wants to stay behind so that Castiel doesn't wake up alone, but that would be weird. Definitely. So he doesn't, just heads back to his house with thoughts of Cas.

 

#

 

Cas is freaking out, and Dean is trying really hard not to laugh.

It's about a week later, at school, just before English class, and the two of them are standing in the hallway outside of the classroom. Cas is pacing back and forth, wearing into the floor, and Dean is watching (in amusement, admittedly). Because, honestly, it's just a presentation. It's nothing that they had to work hard to prepare for--hell, Dean is just planning on winging it. Of course, that is the difference between he and Cas. Still, though, Castiel is rambling on and on about how he "absolutely cannot speak in front of people, Dean, I can't, everyone stares at me and last year I had to take oral debate and I had to deliver a speech and I almost threw up and in second grade once, I actually _did_ throw up and I just--" and on and on and on. It's sort of adorable, which is something he really shouldn't be thinking about when his best friend is damn near hyperventilating. Dean lets his instinct take over, because the poor kid seriously needs some support right now, and if Dean thinks too hard about what he's doing he might not do it.

It really feels far too natural to lean forward and take Cas's hand in his own to get his attention, looking right in his eyes and saying simply, "Cas."

It's almost like that's all that Cas needs, what he'd been waiting for, because his mouth snaps shut and he looks right at Dean as if the words he is about to say hold the answer to the universe. "Just breathe, okay? It's no big deal."

"It's a _very_ big deal, Dean," Cas says seriously, eyes wide in what looks like honest to god fear.

"Just pretend you're talking to me or Charlie or Garth or Kevin. If you get nervous, just look right over at me, alright? It's fine. I'll be right there with you." Shit, that sounds really cheesy. And really _not_ platonic.

The look of relief on Cas's face is almost instantaneous, and he looks so freaking _grateful_ that Dean can't help but feel his heart soften as he looks down at blue eyes and a relieved, albeit still nervous, smile.

Dean is suddenly very aware of the fact that he's still holding Cas's hand, and he's leaning really close--no, actually that's Cas, and his damn personal space issues that Dean typically has no problem with. Except, now, he's literally holding hands with his best friend, standing close, softly speaking words of encouragement into his ear. He knows how it would look to anyone with eyes. Really, everyone in the school _already_ thinks they're in love with each other, so this definitely doesn't help. Charlie had been giving him these _looks_ all week since they'd very briefly talked that night, as if she was trying to tell him with just her eyes to get his shit together and ask Cas out. (Which he was not going to do, because there is no way he's going to screw up one of the only decent relationships he's had in pretty much his entire life.) Lisa had seen him and Cas talking one day, and a look of understanding passed over her features and she gave him a smile that almost seemed like her blessing, as in, "yes, you may be gay for this fine young dork". (It was really weird.)

So he drops Cas's hand sort of really quickly and murmurs, "Uh, Cas... We talked about this." He clears his throat, casting a quick glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. "Personal space."

Cas doesn't seem too affected, only gives Dean a look of consideration, before taking a step back. He takes a deep breath and looks at Dean. "Thank you," he says, looking extremely genuine.

Dean just grins goofily, hoping to diffuse the very serious air that this conversation has taken. "Yeah yeah, just try not to throw up on the first row," he jokes. The horrified, wide-eyed, _don't even joke about that_ look he gets from Cas is totally worth it.

Castiel's presentation actually goes pretty well. He doesn't stutter, he only stumbles on his words a little bit, and, most importantly, he does not vomit or trip and fall on his face or anything of the sort. Cas does, however, glance over to Dean frequently, and for a much longer period of time than should really be considered a "glance", whenever he needs support. Dean gives him a small smile and an encouraging nod or a little thumbs-up every time he does, and he can see the tension ease ever-so-slightly from Cas's shoulders when he does.

And maybe it's all a little bit chick flick, and it's definitely very, very gay, but Dean supposes that Cas just does that to him.

 

#

 

On the same day, Sam is staying after for the student government meeting, which the little overachiever already got elected onto even as a freshman, so it's just Dean and Cas. When Dean pulls up to Cas's house and waits for Cas to say goodbye and get out (slightly looking forward to the way Cas always looks back over his shoulder and gives one last little smile and wave before going inside his house, if he's  being honest with himself). Instead, Cas fidgets for a moment before asking, "Are you busy, Dean?"

Deans steadfastly refuses to think about how sexy his name sounds in Cas's voice and forces himself to answer. "No, I'm free."

Cas fidgets again and it's more than a little amusing. "You have already made good your promise to educate me in the music field, so I must keep my end of the deal," he explains seriously. When Dean doesn't get it, he elaborates: "I told you some time ago that you may come over and join me in viewing the _Dr. Sexy_ DVDs that I own."

Dean pretends to consider it. "Hmm... all six seasons, you said?" Cas nods. "I suppose I can, then."

Cas smiles, and Dean puts the car in park before getting out. Cas leads them inside, putting his trench coat--overcoat--on the coat hanger by the door. Dean follows his lead, shrugging off his leather jacket and hanging it as well.

"Anyone home...?" Dean asks.

"Gabriel went home with a friend, Anna is staying after for the school newspaper."

Dean pauses, contemplating, before he decides, _screw it_ , if it is something Cas doesn't wanna talk about, he isn't forcing him. "And, where are your parents, anyways? They're never here whenever I'm over."

"My mother is at work, which is not unusual. My dad is...somewhere."

"'Somewhere'?"

"Most likely dead," he puts it so bluntly, so lacking in any sort of emotion. "Possibly rich and married to another woman. I don't know."

Dean swallows. "He... left?"

"When I was two. I barely even remember him."

"Oh." Dean wants to say sorry, because that's what people generally say in this situation, but he can tell that that wouldn't do anything. He knows how little "I'm sorry" can mean, how empty it sounds when you hear it from someone who doesn't understand. So instead he says, "My mom died when I was four. It was a fire." For a split second he sort of freaks out because, _Come on, Dean, it's not a fucking contest._ Still, for whatever reason, Castiel looks like that was just the right thing to say.

Cas, for his part, because he gets it, doesn't apologize either. He just nods and gives Dean a look that seems to say the words for him, the "I'm sorry" packed into the bright blue of his eyes, but in a way that seems so much less _hollow_ and so much more _exactly what he needs_. Dean swallows the lump that has mysteriously formed in his throat, and it's not because he feels like crying, definitely not. For God's sake, they were supposed to be watching _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ right now, not having wordless communication of chick flick heart to heart moments.

Cas, as if sensing that Dean doesn't want to get too much farther into all of this, says, "I'll return momentarily," and then disappears to his room. He returns a moment later with a box set of DVDs and he grins devilishly-- _Cas actually grins devilishly_ , and God that is really freaking sexy--as he holds it up for Dean to see.

Dean grins and Cas starts to set up the DVD for season one, which they'd both agreed was their favorite. When they sit down on the couch to watch, maybe Dean sits a little bit closer to Cas than necessary, but no one is there to say anything about it and Cas doesn't seem opposed.

They're only fifteen minutes into the first episode when the front door slams open and Anna's voice loudly and enthusiastic informs anyone within listening distance that "CASTIEL, YOUR BOYFRIEND'S CAR IS IN THE DRIVEWAY!" The change in Cas is immediate--he stiffens, he blushes, and he scoots a few inches away from Dean on the couch.

"Anna! He's not--we're not--I--" Cas says intelligently.

Anna, smooth like she is, just walks over to Dean and makes a big show out of shaking his hand. "So good to finally meet you! Seems like you're only ever here when I'm not... But, yeah, Castiel has told me all about you. He talks about you, like, non-stop."

Cas appears to be seriously contemplating suicide. Anna turns to him and puts her hand up to shield her lips from Dean's view, as if she's about to share a secret. Of course, she doesn't even try to sound like she's whispering when she says, "He's cute--if he isn't gay can I have him?"

Even Dean is blushing now. "Go away, Anna!" Castiel punctuates this statement by throwing a pillow at her. She throws it right back, her laugh downright evil sounding. She starts to go up the stairs to her room, still cackling, as Cas presses the pillow against his face and groans.

"She was kidding. I don't talk about you all the time. I never talk about you." Cas tries defend. "I mean, not that I don't talk about you," he attempted to mend. "Only occasionally. She was just teasing."

Dean can't help but laugh at how easily flustered Cas is.

"Yeah, I know, Cas," and just because he's evil, he throws in a wink. They sit down to continue watching, but Dean isn't really paying a lot of attention to the show. He's more distracted by the boy sitting next to him.

 

#

 

"We're going to a party," Dean announces as he drops his stuff next to Castiel at their typical lunch group in the cafeteria. (They had reluctantly made the move to the indoors just last week, as it began to grow too cold for anyone to stand sitting outside anymore.)

Kevin doesn't ask questions; his immediate reaction is: "No we aren't."

"Yes, hi, Kevin, good to see you haven't changed."

"What sort of party are we talking?" Charlie asks, looking to be considering.

Dean sighs. "You know, the normal kind? At a house? Lots of people, loud music, alcohol?"

Castiel and Charlie exchange a look before Castiel turns to Dean. "We aren't the type to go to parties, in case you haven't noticed."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Everyone goes to parties."

"Not us," Garth says, far too cheerfully. "We're never invited."

"Dude, everyone is invited to every party. It's not an invite thing. You just go."

"But--" Castiel starts.

"What, do you want a formal invitation delivered to each of your houses?"

"Parties just aren't our area, Dean," Castiel admits, watching Dean carefully. He doesn't really want to go to the party. Sure, they'd never been invited, but they hadn't minded. None of them had any interest in getting drunk and/or surrounding themselves with drunk people and then making mistakes that they are sure to regret the next morning. It doesn't sound like a fun time to Castiel.

"It'll be fun!" Dean insists.

Charlie sighs. "When is it, whose party is it, blah blah blah?"

"It's Jo Harvelle's party, at her house tonight. She said around seven, so I figure we'll go at eight. It's a Halloween party, but she specifically said not to wear a costume for whatever reason." he shrugs.

"I have a cello lesson," Kevin claims.

"All night?"

"No, but I have to practice afterward."

"All night?"

Charlie gives Garth a look, tilting her head toward Castiel for a moment, before Garth gives her another look in return. They continue with this silent communication for a moment, and Castiel observes, trying to make sense of it all, and failing epically.  Finally, Charlie straightens and turns back to Dean and Castiel, both of which are watching her in confusion. "We can't go," she says simply.

Dean raises an eyebrow, and even Castiel gives her a look. Charlie responds by aiming a pointed glance at Castiel, flicking her eyes over to Dean as if to say, hint hint, we're doing you a favor here. As soon as Castiel realizes what they are trying to do--to set him up with Dean--he sits up straight and narrows his eyes. Before he can say anything, Charlie pipes up. "But I know Cas is free! He was telling me yesterday how he didn't have anything to do, so I'm sure he can come."

Castiel tries to argue, because no, absolutely not, he is not going to a party without a whole team of emotional support, where everyone will be drinking alcohol and performing sexual actions that he wants no part in, and he is not going to a party with Dean because that is just too much like a date, and just no. He tries to cover Charlie's words--"Oh, uh, actually, I--"

Before he can even squeeze out a full sentence, Dean, who is still completely oblivious to what Charlie and Garth are trying to do and to the internal freak-out Castiel is having, grins and says, "Awesome, Cas!" He looks so freaking excited, Castiel doesn't have the heart to say that he doesn't want to go at all. He slumps, giving Charlie and Garth both a dark look that could kill. They just grin and exchange the most indiscreet high-five ever.

"Are you sure none of you guys wanna come?" Dean asks. They all nod enthusiastically--Charlie and Garth because they are trying to set them up, Kevin because he is in agreement with Castiel when it comes to parties, and there is no way he is going.

Dean shrugs, giving Castiel a smile that is way too sexy for Castiel's own good, and says, "Alright, I'll pick you up at eight."

Castiel swallows heavily, and he swears that one day he will actually murder Charlie.

#

"You'll thank me," Charlie claims, as they make their way down the hall after lunch. Castiel pulls them apart from the group, waiting until Dean is down the hall in the opposite direction before speaking.

"I highly doubt that."

"You're already thanking me, I can tell! He even said that he'll pick you up at eight, which is the most cliche date line ever, and--"

"Charlie, it isn't a date," Castiel insists.

"He obviously thinks it is, if the way he looked at you said anything."

"He didn't 'look at me' like anything!"

"Yes he did! He looked at you like, damn, all of the things he wants to do to you--"

"Charlie. Please stop. I am begging you."

"I won't stop until you grow a pair and tell Dean how you feel, you idiot!"

"I'm not going to let anything happen at a party!"

"Why not? Alcohol is the perfect motivator."

"Yes, because the tattoo of the scantily clad woman straddling a set of die was a brilliant alcohol-induced decision."

"It's not _some woman_ , it's Princess Leia! And that was Comic Con, that's different."

"No, it isn't," Castiel sighs before continuing. "And I will not let anything happen between the two of us while under alcoholic influence."

"You're too much of a saint for your own good, Cas."

"I just don't want anything to happen if Dean is just going to regret it and claim that it didn't mean anything the next morning." It's simple to Castiel, and he doesn't see how Charlie doesn't understand. If anything happens while he or Dean are drunk, they would just pretend it didn't mean anything; Castiel wants it to mean something. "I have to go to class, Charlie, I'll see you."

"Yeah, yeah," she says, turning to walk down the hallway toward her class, before calling back over her shoulder with a grin, "Love you!"

"I hate you," Castiel gives her a dirty look.

"That's what they all say," Charlie smiles.

#

Dean pulls up to Castiel's driveway at 7:59 exactly, and Castiel is not ready.

Well, he's physically ready. Anna had made sure of that. (Anna, who is definitely the best, most wonderful older sister ever to live on this plane of existence. She calmly dealt with Castiel, soothing his freak-out at having never been to a party before, helped him pick out his outfit--a blue button down, which she said matched his eyes, jeans, "Not the fucking trench coat, I swear to God, or so help me, Castiel." --and told him to call her if he got drunk. Which he wouldn't do, because he isn't an idiot, but he thanked her either way.) He's ready in the fact that he's clothed and everything, but he's still freaking out internally, because he can't wrap his mind around the whole party + him and Dean thing. It’s not a date. Definitely not. Two friends. Party. Totally fine.

So Castiel takes a minute just standing by the door, inhaling and exhaling carefully like the nervous wreck that he is, waiting until the clock changes to 8:00 pm before actually leaving the house.

Dean is wearing his leather jacket again, looking as devilishly handsome as usual, if not more so. Castiel greets him carefully before Dean says, "Turns out Jo's house is actually pretty close, like walking distance from here."

Castiel nods, not seeing the significance of the information.

Dean explains: "So we can get drunk!"

Castiel forces a stiff smile, hoping that Dean doesn't see how ridiculously not encouraging this information is, as Dean starts animatedly talking about something that Castiel can't bring himself to focus on.

When they pull up to the house, the party is already in full swing. Castiel inhales sharply, because it looks so cliche, with the house glowing with all the light, people practically pouring from it, music pounding, red Solo cups littering the front lawn. The night is dark, but Castiel can still make out the groups of people hanging out outside--the couple making out in the porch, one person even vomiting into the bushes already. Castiel can't help but blurt out his exact thoughts: "Oh god, it's exactly like it looks in the movies."

Dean just laughs, as if this whole thing isn't the most terrifying event of Castiel's life, and gets out of the car.

Castiel takes one more look at the house, dread filling his body, before getting out and following Dean. He shouldn't have done this; it's all Charlie's fault. Well, it's Dean's fault too, but Castiel has to forgive him for that because he's sort of in love with him.

Holy shit, where did that thought come from?

He tucks that thought away into the corner of his mind, because he doesn't have time to have a crisis right now. So he steps up beside Dean as they make their way to the front door. "What does one... do at these parties?" Although, looking around, he can get a pretty good idea, and he doesn't like it.

"You know, hang out, get drunk, get laid," he answered with a laugh and a smirk.

"Get laid?" Castiel asks with a raised eyebrow. "You are aware that I have the sex appeal of a dying fish, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean shoots back immediately. "Fish are bursting with sexuality. You're a fish. Flaunt it."

Castiel can't help but laugh, suddenly feeling (slightly) more at ease, even as Dean pushes through the door to the house.

The front room, which most likely looks something like a living room underneath all of the people, is shoved full of bodies, sweating, dancing, laughing, drinking. Castiel pulls in on himself, trying and failing to not bump into anyone. Dean is lightly pressed against Castiel's side due to lack of space, before he pushes forward for more room. Castiel attempts to keep up as Dean leads them to a side of the room with some more space to breathe, before turning to him.

"I'm gonna find the alcohol," Dean grins. "Want anything?"

Castiel shakes his head, and Dean shoots him an "I'll be right back," before disappearing in a different direction.

Castiel lingers by the wall, alone, empty handed, and out of place. He looks around, wondering if he's supposed to be waiting for Dean to come back, praying that Dean will come back, because Castiel doesn't know anyone else at this party.

Two girls materialize simultaneously at either side of Castiel at that moment, holding drinks, dressed in next to nothing. Castiel nearly chokes when he realizes who they are--the Rubys.

Brunette Ruby has red lipstick and leans in, speaking loudly so as to be heard over the music. "Aw, your boyfriend is getting you a drink? How sweet."

"I have to say," says Blonde Ruby. "I didn't see him as the gay type."

"Or the type who hangs out with people like you," Brunette Ruby supplies bluntly.

"But you guys are seriously adorable."

"Seriously," Brunette Ruby agrees.

Blonde Ruby leans in too, crowding Castiel up against the wall. He shrinks back further, ridiculously uncomfortable.

"So have you done it yet?" Blonde Ruby inquires.

"Done w-what?" Castiel chokes out.

"Sex," Brunette Ruby clarifies.

"Obviously."

"Uhh--" Castiel tries helplessly to determine exactly what the fuck is going on.

"Do you spit or swallow?" Brunette Ruby demands.

"Does _Dean_ spit or swallow?"

"I--"

Before he can answer, Brunette Ruby asks, "Who tops?"

"'Who _tops_?'" Castiel repeats.

"Yeah, like, who's the girl in the relationship?"

Castiel tilts his head. "I don't understand. We are both males."

Blonde Ruby throws her head back and laughs, leaning in even closer to Castiel and running a hand down his arm. Her nails are long and painted bright red. "You're so funny," she says. It doesn't sound like a compliment; it sounds a lot more like a predator, a cat preparing to pounce.

"I, uh..." Castiel says eloquently.

"Alright, down, girls," comes a familiar voice, a very welcome sound, because it belongs to Dean. Both Rubys immediately take a half step back, allowing Castiel to breathe.

They turn to Dean for a second with grins that look like pure evil.

"We were just having some fun with your boyfriend," Brunette Ruby says innocently.

"Yeah, just having a chat," Blonde Ruby adds.

They both turn back to Castiel in complete unison, planting a kiss on each of his cheeks, and Castiel can feel their lipstick leaving lip-shaped stains. They saunter off, leaving Castiel gaping.

"See what I said? Fish--bursting with sexuality!"

Castiel wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand, trying to wipe off traces of lipstick as he sputters, "They're--demons!"

Dean laughs and takes a swig of whatever drink he had retrieved. Judging by the flush starting to rise in Dean's cheeks and his already slightly hazed eyes, it was something stronger than just beer.

Castiel can't help but eye it warily, hoping that Dean doesn't get completely intoxicated. He doesn't want to have to deal with a stumbling, vomiting Dean.

Dean, noticing his gaze, gives Castiel a wide, reassuring grin. "Don't worry, I won't get too ridiculously drunk." Castiel nods, thankful, and Dean puts the drink to his lips.

#

Dean gets totally ridiculously drunk.

Castiel can barely keep track of time, hovering by the corner as Dean pops back and forth, talking with Castiel for a while, always ending the conversation with him trying to convince him to join him in socializing or getting a drink. And yes, Castiel is definitely tempted, because Dean keeps licking his lips, and because he doesn't know what to do when he's standing by the wall alone. He busies himself by going to the bathroom far more times than is necessary, then drinking a lot of water, then repeating the first step.

He doesn't know what time it is the time that Dean returns and is beyond just tipsy, but he assumes that it is late enough to leave without Dean complaining. He doesn't think that Dean will complain either way, since he's currently hanging on Castiel's shoulder and laughing about... something. Something that is probably only even remotely entertaining to one who is at Dean's level of intoxication.

"And you know what else I don't get?" Dean slurs, talking very loudly as Castiel tries to free himself from Dean, who is suddenly an octopus, his limbs clinging to him. Castiel manages to pry Dean's arm off of him and tries to lead Dean toward the door. Dean continues, oblivious to the fact that they are even moving, or to the fact that his arms are being repeatedly pried from off of Castiel before he plasters them back on. "I don't get why--why--why are there no red highlighters?" Castiel is practically dragging Dean now. No one at the party takes notice, since Castiel seems to be the only one remaining who is completely sober. "I mean, they have highlighters in every color in the rainbow, like, _every color_ , 'cept for indigo, but who even counts indigo anyway, right?" He laughs like it's the most hilarious thing. Castiel continues to ignore the gibberish. "Nah, but, red, red's an important color, so--so--so why doesn't it get its own highlighter? It's not fair! We should start a campaign. For red highlighters nationwide. Color equality." They are barely down the front porch steps, and Dean is only just coming to the end of his equal rights for highlighters speech when Dean doubles over and vomits, narrowly missing Castiel's shoes. Castiel doesn't even have time to kneel down and see if he's okay, maybe even awkwardly pat his back, before Dean stands up again, whirling around with high energy, and exclaiming, "I am _good!_ "

Castiel gives him a once over, mumbling something about "you fucking asshole" as he loops one of Dean's arms around his shoulder to support his stumbling weight. Dean, however, takes this as an invitation, sliding uncomfortably close to Castiel and leaning his head on his shoulder, wrapping his other arm around Castiel's waist. He looks up at Castiel almost dreamily.

"You have the bluest eyes," he declares. Castiel raises an eyebrow and tries to get them moving again, cursing the existence of alcohol and vowing internally to never get as embarrassingly drunk as Dean is now. Dean stops Castiel from moving, looking suddenly very serious. "No, Cas, I'm serious, they're the bluest eyes, ever, they're so freaking beautiful, ugh, it isn't fair, I wish I could just--I dunno, I could--I could _swim in your eyes, Cas_ , how cool would that be." Castiel manages to pull Dean forward into a walk.

Dean continues to ramble, and Castiel tries to tune it out, but he can't. "I remember, when--when--when I first saw you, I just thought, _fuck_ , his eyes are blue. But they aren't _blue_ blue, they're, like, _blue_ , you know what I'm saying? No no no b-but you were singing _Love Story_ and you were just--" he hiccups. "Hilarious. And adorable." Dean turns his wrist and pokes Castiel's cheek with the hand that is still draped over Castiel's shoulder. Then he starts humming _Love Story_ , rather enthusiastically, as Castiel drags him toward their houses. When his humming escalates into singing softly, which escalates into belting, Castiel hisses at him to " _Please_ , shut up, Dean." Not only due to the fact that it's the middle of the night, but also for the sake of his own sanity. Dean does (thank _God_ ) and allows Castiel to guide him a little way in silence.

It's not _so_ bad, he supposes, having Dean pressed up against his side like this. And without Dean talking and singing, it's peaceful enough.

Dean stops walking all of the sudden, nearly pulling Castiel over as he tilts his head back to look up at the sky.

"Look at the stars, Cas."

Castiel sighs exasperatedly, glancing up briefly. It was a nice night out, with the sky clear, the air gently cool and crisp. Castiel would be able to enjoy it more if Dean wasn't craning his neck back so far that he almost topples over before Castiel steadies him. "Yeah, yeah, keep walking, Dean." Then he grumbles, mostly to himself, "And you owe me for this. You are so very lucky that I'm a decent human being."

Dean hears, however, and says, "I owe you a lot, Cas, definitely. You're s-such a good--" he hiccups again. "--Friend." He punctuates this thought with a smacking kiss to Castiel's cheek, with an audible " _Mwah_!" for good measure.

Dean smells like alcohol and sweat, and his lips are sticky, but Castiel still blushes a bit and mumbles, "Whatever, Dean."

"No, Cas, I mean--I _mean_ it, you're awesome, you are so--so-- _so_ awesome, I don't--I mean." He cuts off, looking over at Castiel and just staring.

"What?" Castiel sighs.

"Your eyes are just really blue."

Castiel tries not to blush, because Dean is insanely drunk and definitely doesn't mean any of what he's saying. So he rolls his eyes instead and plows forward.

When they finally get to Castiel's house, Castiel is thoroughly annoyed with Dean, who was rambling on and on about God only knows what, and is tired from holding half of Dean's weight. His house is closer, so he figures he might as well let Dean sleep here for the night rather than haul him over to his own. Plus, he might risk getting caught by his dad, who Castiel hadn't heard good things about; he also doesn't want Sam to see his older brother this way, knowing that Sam practically idolizes Dean.

So he practically drags Dean up the stairs, trying to keep him quiet since Gabriel and Anna are most likely trying to sleep. When they reach his room, he drops Dean onto his bed, deciding that he'll sleep on the couch. He figures that Dean will have the worst hangover ever tomorrow, so he shows sympathy. Dean buries his face in the pillow, mumbling into it unintelligibly. Castiel throws his comforter over Dean before walking away.

Well, he attempts to. Because before he can escape and collapse down on the comfortable couch in exhaustion, Dean's fingers find Castiel's wrist and pull in a manner that is not gentle at all, pulling him down onto the bed.

Dean may say more, but the only words that Castiel can tell are definitely English are, "'M Cold." Then Octopus Dean is back, wrapping his limbs around Castiel and pulling him under the covers.

Castiel struggles helplessly, only slightly panicking at the flow of thoughts in his head-- _him, and Dean, in bed, together_ \--and keeps his voice as steady as he can when he says, "Dean, stop it. You're drunk."

"And cold. Stop moving."

Castiel stiffens as Dean pulls him beside him, flush against his body. "Dean--"

"Shh." Dean's eyelids flutter close as he tucks Castiel's chin against his shoulder, burying his nose in Castiel's messy hair.

Castiel freezes for a few minutes, body stiff, unsure of what to do. When Dean's breathing steadies as he falls into slumber, Castiel finds himself relaxing minutely. It isn't entirely uncomfortable, and not in the least unwelcome, except for the fact that it was induced by alcohol and _none of it meant anything_. So, that means that it also doesn't mean anything if Castiel burrows into Dean just a little bit more and closes his eyes to sleep. At least, that's what Castiel tells himself.

 

#

 

When Dean wakes up, his head is pounding viciously, and he desperately wants to die.

He rolls over with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. The bright sun is beating through the open window, making everything red behind his eyelids. He opens them for a split second, before learning firsthand why that is _definitely_ not a good idea. He pulls his pillow tightly over his face, trying with great difficulty not to curl over the side of the bed and vomit.

With his eyes closed and the pillow over his face to dim the lights, and the smell of Cas all around him, he can--

Wait.

He forces his eyes open, ignoring the nausea that rolls through him, trying to push himself up. And, yeah, this is definitely not his room.

He had been over to Cas's house lots of times, but he'd never been invited up to Cas's room, and he had been fine with that. While Dean would love to look around and take note of every tiny detail, he's currently half blind due to the persistent, god-awful headache that makes his head pound so loud he's afraid he'll wake up the entire house. He glances around the room, in search of a clock or a phone, but instead finds a glass of water next to two Advils. He thanks whoever is listening for the awesome best friend that is Cas, throwing back the pills quickly and sipping the rest of the water.

Then he _does_ locate the clock, and nearly drops the glass on the floor. It's going on two in the afternoon, and his dad is going to quite literally kill him, and Sammy is probably home alone and--he had told Sam he was only going out for a few hours that night. Shit.

He honestly has no idea what happened last night after the first bit of alcohol. Everything was a blur, getting more blurry as the minutes went by. He couldn't help but glance down at his body and find relief in the fact that he was fully clothed. In the clothes he was wearing yesterday, of course, which reeked of liquor, but at least he could tell he hadn't made any... regrettable decisions. Regrettable decisions that might lead to him waking up in Cas's bed.

He's in Cas's bed.

He closes his eyes and breathes in once more before pushing himself up, his headache a splitting pain that left him wondering exactly how much he had drank.

He manages to get down the stairs alright. When he does, he sees Cas sitting at the kitchen table with a plethora of papers scattered around a large textbook, his pen flying across the paper in his binder, not yet taking notice of Dean's presence. He is already dressed, which makes sense, since it's the afternoon already. His hair, of course, is messy. He's biting his lip in concentration as he scowls down at his book and scrawls whatever notes, and Dean can't help but smile.

Then he remembers that he's in immense pain, and forces himself to stop staring.

Dean walks over to the table drops himself dramatically down onto the chair. He was intending to give a melodramatic sigh, but he instead ends up giving a genuine groan and burying his head in his arms on the table. Cas looks up at his appearance. "About time," is all he says, his deep voice surprisingly soothing to Dean despite his pain.

Without lifting his head, Dean attempts to say, "I am drunk and in pain, cut me some slack." Since it's so muffled, he imagines that it sounds more like "Mm dnk nf mm pmnnn, cff mm smslkk." With great effort, he lifts his head so he can speak clearly. "What even happened, did I drink a freaking liquor store?"

Cas just chuckles, but Dean can see that he's a bit annoyed at something. He assumes he has the right, since he was probably forced to drag a drunken Dean home after being left alone at the party. And he let him take his bed. And he probably said or did something while he was drunk. Dean straightens suddenly.

"Did I--I mean, did I do anything? While I was drunk?"

Cas's smiles, "You talked a bit about my blue eyes and what a _great_ friend I am. Also, red highlighters."

Dean furrowed his brow. The first two he could understand (he only blushed a little, much to his credit.), but--"There's no such thing as a red highlighter."

"That is precisely what you were so offended by."

Dean looked down in confusion, eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly. "Huh."

"I believe you said something about campaigning for color equality, directly after you dismissed the color indigo as unimportant. Which is offensive, considering indigo is my favorite color and I am now _very_ offended," Cas teased.

"You said _green_ was your favorite color, you liar."

Cas's smile softens at that, and Dean realizes that he had somehow remembered such a small and insignificant detail from the first day of school. Except, Dean didn't think it was insignificant if it was something about Cas. But then, Cas didn't need to know that. He _definitely_ didn't need to know that.

"Yes, well you claimed that blue was your favorite color, yet you didn't propose a campaign to help the color blue."

Dean rolls his eyes in mocking exasperation. "They already _have_ blue highlighters, Cas."

"Touche," Cas allows with narrowed eyes.

Dean cracks a grin briefly before burying his face back into his arms. "I'm too hungover to flirt, Cas," he complained from under the shield of his arms. His arms muffled his voice again, and Castiel just leans in a bit and asks, "What did you say?" Dean loses any courage he might have had and doesn't respond. His response instead is a pained moan.

Cas sighs and pushes up and away from the table. "Coffee?" he sighs the question as if he's admitting defeat.

Dean throws a fist in the air in what might look victorious if his face wasn't currently hiding from the daylight. He hears Cas let out a breathy laugh as he gets up to make some. Dean thinks it's all adorably domestic, but he tries not to think too hard about that. He closes his eyes and waits for his drink, wondering what he did to get an amazing friend like Cas who put up with his bullshit (both drunken _and_ sober) and helped him clean up after himself too.

The smell of cheap and store-bought coffee fills his nostrils, and even though it is probably bitter and gross, he accepts it eagerly. Just as he's about to take a sip, Gabriel, Cas's younger brother, opens the front door with a slam and runs in.

He's sucking on a lollipop, and Dean isn't sure whether it's from Halloween or from the seemingly never ending supply of candy that Cas had told him he had somewhere.

It seems like Gabriel is purposely stomping harder than necessary, clapping, and generally being obnoxious and irritating. He probably _is_ , according to the "pure evil" that Cas had told him about, and the fact that Gabriel knew that Dean was hopelessly hungover.

"Heeeeey Deeeeanooo!" He drags out the words as long and loud as he can, and Dean wonders if Cas would be horribly offended if he were to murder his brother. He figures that might not be such a great idea and instead gives him a view of his middle finger.

"Dean!" Cas scolds. Then he sees Gabriel returning the gesture over his shoulder as he runs away full-on giggling. Cas watches him for a second before wondering, "Are all seventh graders this obnoxious, or am I just ridiculously unlucky?"

Dean snorts and accepts the coffee that Cas holds out. (He doesn't know how Cas knew he likes just a little sugar in it, but somehow he does, and it is perfect.) "All seventh graders. Definitely."

Cas shrugs and laughs, then says, "I'm not kicking you out or anything, but won't Sam or your father be worried about you?"

Dean straightens, "Fuck, yeah." He slouches back down again with a sigh, taking another gulp of his coffee. "But I'm gonna finish my damn coffee first."

Cas smiles. "Of course, Dean."

Yes, Dean is hungover and miserable, and he probably looks like crap, and he'll probably be in trouble with his dad for leaving Sam by himself, and with Sam for not coming home when he'd said. Even so, when Cas starts telling a story about a girl who had mistaken what was "obviously" a trebuchet for a catapult. Dean has no idea what a trebuchet even _is_ , but when he is watching Castiel talk so animatedly and adorably, he doesn't mind at all. He takes a little longer drinking his coffee than he needs to.

 


	3. The Story of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last full length chapter!

CHAPTER THREE

3

_Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room_

_and we're not speaking,_

_And I'm dying to know is it killing you_

_like it's killing me, yeah?_

_I don't know what to say,_

_since the twist of fate when it all broke down,_

_And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now._

 

Barely a week later, on the day of the first snowfall of the year, Castiel is sitting by the door. It's going on 7:15, and Dean isn't here yet; nor is he answering his phone. Anna's teased him three times now about being in a lover's spat, and then asked seriously if he needed a ride. He said, no, of course, because Dean would show up.

Anna and Gabriel leave, giving Castiel a _look_ , as in, "Oh you poor baby," and it makes him want to smite the both of them. He sighs, and pulls out his phone.

Just as he does, it vibrates, and Castiel checks the new message, from Dean:

_Sammy is sick. sorry I'm late, i'll be there in two minutes._

Castiel sighs, and he himself is unsure as to whether it is relief or annoyance.

True to his word, the Impala pulls up in front of Castiel's house in just two minutes. Castiel lugs his backpack out of the house, careful to lock the door behind him--a precaution he is rarely responsible for taking, since Anna is usually the one running late. He walks quickly to the car and gets in. Instead of his usual, "Hello, Dean," he says, rather sourly, practically pouting, "We're going to be late."

"Hello to you too, Cas. You'll survive."

"I have near perfect attendance--" Castiel tried to argue. Dean gave him a look.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Cas," he tries to sound exaggerated, but Castiel can tell that part of Dean thinks that this is hilarious. Castiel is rather offended at that, because there is _nothing_ humorous about bad marks on the permanent record.

Still, he tries to be polite. "What is wrong with Sam?"

Dean sighs. "Allergies, a cold, I have no freaking idea. That kid could catch a cold in the middle of July though, I swear, he's always sick."

Castiel chuckles quietly for a moment, before zeroing in on the clock again. "It's 7:24."

"Yes...?" Dean prompts.

"We're supposed to be at school at 7:30."

"And...?"

" _We're supposed to be at school at 7:30!_ " Castiel repeats, as if Dean hadn't heard.

"Relax, Cas, we'll be a few minutes late, tops."

They are more than a few minutes late.

Because, in Kansas, when it snows or rains or _whatever_ , it seems that literally everyone in the town loses the ability to drive like a sane human being, going impossibly slow as if the half-inch of snow will be the death of them. Castiel is staring out the window longingly, and Dean is _literally_ banging his head against the steering wheel and groaning about how "no one in this town knows how to drive".

By the time they get to school, it's eight o'clock and they're both spectacularly irritated.

"I don't want to go to school, Dean," Castiel complains miserably. He’s tired and it's cold and he’ll have to get a late note and show it to _all_ of his teachers and carry it around _all day_. “I would do literally anything to not go today." He starts unbuckling his seat belt and grabbing his backpack as Dean shuts off the car, taking his time since there's no rush now that they are already late.

"Then don't go," Dean says as they both get out of the car, like it's simple, and receives a look from Castiel that shows exactly how ridiculous he finds that idea. They both slam the car doors closed at the same time.

"I'm serious, Cas!" Dean's grinning now, all traces of the irritation at bad drivers replaced with a mischievous smile. "Remember the first day of school? I said that at some point this year, I'd convince you to skip school."

Castiel gives him a disapproving look, showing that he did remember but he had no intention of letting Dean get in the way of his excellence attendance record.

"Come on, Cas! Live a little! It'll be fun."

"But--"

"Cas," Dean said sternly, putting a hand on each of Cas's shoulders, holding him at arms length and looking him dead in the eye. "You'll survive with one day marked as absent. Do something for yourself for once.”

Castiel looked over at the school, almost longingly, then back at Dean. And, dammit, Castiel knew right then and there he was going to say yes, because he couldn't say no to Dean, especially not when Dean is watching him intently with his bright green eyes, almost pleading. He could tell for a little while now that what he feels for Dean, as cheesy as this may sound, is more that physical attraction, infatuation, or a crush. It's something else entirely, but there is no way that Castiel is going to say that word, even in his head.

"Dean..." Castiel whines, almost comically. Dean's grin grows even wider, as if he already knows that Castiel is convinced. Which, of course, he is.

Dean doesn't wait for spoken confirmation, just drops his hands from Cas's shoulders and gets right back into the car. Castiel sighs and, almost begrudgingly, follows suit.

Dean starts the car and turns on the radio, as he always does. Castiel takes the moment to look over at Dean as he gets settled into his element, his "baby", just as he always does. "So where are we going?" Castiel asks. He doesn't know the typical customs of one playing "hookie", what one does, and he’s not even entirely sure what a “hookie” is. He had heard the phrase on television once.

Dean just pulls the car out of the parking space and drives out of the lot; nobody is outside to give them a second look for leaving early (or rather, not going in in the first place). "I have no idea."

Castiel blinks, looking at Dean, once, twice. "Uh," Castiel offers helpfully.

Dean just continues driving down the road, drumming along to what Castiel can now recognize, thanks to Dean's lessons, as "Stairway to Heaven". Castiel even nods along, because Dean has apparently rubbed off on him. "Let's get food. Do you want food? I want food."

"It's not even nine yet," Castiel points out.

"Who cares about the time? Food is food, and a twenty-four hour diner is a twenty-four hour diner. Burgers?"

Castiel nods, a tad overly enthusiastic. He does enjoy burgers.

 

#

 

They walk in and sit down at a table for two in the corner. When the waitress offers to take their orders, Dean orders for the both of them--burgers and fries, good old fashioned. He winks at the waitress--a young girl, probably in college, substantially attractive--and gives his signature Dean Winchester flirty smile, and Castiel does not feel jealous. He _doesn_ 't.

Okay, he does. A lot. Because he's an idiot. (But, hey, at least he acknowledges it.)

"What I don't understand," Dean is saying, "is how English teachers say they can't even count out their own papers because they teach English and not math, and math teachers think it's okay not to use proper grammar because they aren't English teachers, but we're half their age and twice as stupid, and we're _still_ expected to do both."

Castiel laughs and nods in agreement. Dean somehow manages to make the way he sips his soda appear aggressive, obviously very spirited about the topic of bad teachers. The waitress appears at that moment, holding plates full of sinfully greasy food. Castiel notices the way her eyes look over the both of them, takes in the way Castiel watches Dean with so much affection, and Castiel can tell what she probably thinks.

Dean, oblivious, thanks the waitress and starts in on his food, looking far too enthusiastic as he does. The happy sounds he makes around the sandwich are almost pornographic.

When Castiel takes a bite, he says simply, "These make me... very happy." Dean chuckles and attempts to steal a fry from Castiel's plate. Cas knocks his hand away, arguing that he still has his own, and so they go, bickering lightheartedly.

Which may be why, when the waitress came to offer refills on their drinks, she said conversationally, "So how long have you two been together?"

Dean chokes on a French fry, leaving Castiel to awkwardly defend their heterosexuality.

"Oh, uh--we--we aren't--"

Dean manages escaping his death by French fry and supplies, "We're just friends, I mean, it's not like we're--"

"We aren't _dating..."_

The waitress doesn't even try to apologize or look sorry for the mistake. Instead, she looks sympathetic, and Castiel can't help but read her expression as _those poor boys don't even see what they do to each other_.

The woman walks away with a "suit yourself" sort of shrug, and they fall into a silence that is more than a little awkward. Castiel knows that there are a thousand things that he could be saying, that he wants to say, but for the life of him he can't think of a single one.

They finish their meals in near silence, only occasionally commenting. Now, it isn't so much awkward as it is the both of them lost in their own thoughts.

When the waitress returns, she asks if they want dessert. Dean immediately answers, if a bit too enthusiastically, that they'll each have a slice of whatever pie she recommends. Castiel makes a face at how excited Dean seems at the prospect of getting pie. Just to be contrary, he says, "Cake is better than pie."

Dean looks downright, personally offended. "No way."

Castiel smiles innocently.

"Do I even know you at all? I trusted you!"

"Dean, if you're done with the dramatics, I was simply expressing my opinion--"

"Yes, well that's the difference between your opinion and mine."

"What's the difference?"

" _Your opinion is wrong_."

"And why is that?"

"Because pie is--pie is _pie_ and it's magical wonderful goodness wrapped up inside of crust."

"See, I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong," Castiel deadpans.

"How can you possibly think that?" Dean looks honestly confused, and it's hilariously adorable. "This could be a deal breaker, Cas," Dean adds seriously.

"Oh, really? What deal are we breaking?" He asks in a coy tone, locking eyes with Dean for just a beat too long, and yes, that's definitely flirting right there. He doesn't stutter, doesn't even think before responding like that. The faint blush that appears on Dean's cheeks makes it worth it all by itself.

He doesn't get to hear any sort of response from Dean, because that is when the waitress appears with the two slices of pie--pecan, it seems. She has a small smile, _I know what's going on here_ written all over her face.

Once she disappears, Dean takes his fork and starts in on his slice as he asks, "What's so good about cake, anyways, you backstabber?"

Castiel quirks a smile, but all he says is, "I would explain it to you, but I am fresh out of crayons."

Dean laughs heartily. "You think you're so sassy, don't you?"

"Did you just call me _sassy_?"

"Damn straight. Embrace your inner black woman."

"Now _that,_ Dean,would be a stereotype," Castiel points out.

"It's not a stereotype if it's true."

"Now you're using the arguments of a seventh grader. Next you'll be saying you're not 'racist', you're 'racially aware'."

"And, 'I don't have a dirty mind, I have a sexy imagination.'"

"Exactly."

Dean's knees brush against his from under the table, and Castiel is only just realizing how they've unconsciously moved forward, leaning over the table. Castiel can't help but look down at Dean's mouth, which slowly pulls into a languid smile that is undeniably flirty. He looks up to meet Dean's eyes again.

And yeah, Dean is definitely looking at Castiel's mouth.

Castiel tears his eyes away, suddenly taking a lot of interest in his pie, taking a bite to distract himself. He thanks anyone who is listening for the attentive waitress, who appears at that moment again, asking whether they'll be paying together or separately. Castiel immediately responds with "separate" at the same time as Dean, who says "together."

Castiel looks over at Dean, who doesn't falter but instead repeats, "Together." The waitress nods and scurries off to get the check, and Castiel sighs. "I have money, Dean."

"I figured you do, but I also figured that I basically kidnapped you and made you skip school, so the pie is on me."

"You hardly kidnapped me. I would follow you anywhere of my own accord."

It takes Castiel a minute to realize exactly what he just said. He almost made a move to amend it because, he figured, it wasn't a lie, so why not?

If Dean was flustered or affected in any way by the comment, he doesn't show it, just smoothly jokes, "But the added bribery helped."

"I suppose," Castiel says. "Although, as you said, the pie thing may be a deal breaker."

Dean rolls his eyes, and accepts the check a moment later when the waitress returns. Castiel tries to read it, saying "Are you sure? I have money, Dean." Dean just swats his arm away. "At least let me provide the tip," Castiel tried. Dean continues batting away Castiel's attempts to pay, nudging him playfully until he gives up.

Once everything is paid for, they head out, thanking the waitress as they go. Castiel is just about to inquire what they would do now, what one typically does when doing rebellious things like cutting class, when he practically jumps in surprised at the small press of a hand against the small of his back, and he realizes that it's Dean, gently guiding him toward the door. Castiel can't help but turn to look at Dean in surprise. It's as if Dean doesn't even realize he's doing it, because as soon as Dean's eyes meet Castiel's, he jerks his hand away, placing it instead on the back of his neck, scratching at it nervously. He uses his other hand to open the door, holding it open for Castiel to walk through. Castiel thanks him, although it is more than a bit awkward due to the fact that _Dean is acting like he might like Castiel like_ that _and it's throwing him off_.

When they get in the Impala, Castiel does voice his question--"What now?"

Dean pauses, thinking, before saying with determination, "Video games."

"Video games?" Castiel repeats.

"Video games. As in, on the TV, with a controller--" he gestures with his hands, pantomiming holding a controller and pushing at buttons with his thumbs.

"I know what they are," Castiel says with an eye roll. "But why? And where? And what game?"

Dean answers, ticking off on his fingers as he answers each question. "Why--Because it's fun and you need to have fun, because we are skipping school. Where--At my house; we have Sam's Xbox set up in the living room. And probably Halo or some sort of first person shooter, mainly because I think it will be hilarious watching you try to play it."

Castiel huffs at the thought. "I am quite talented at video games, I hope you know."

"For some reason, I seriously doubt that," Dean laughs.

"You don't know the half of what I am capable of!"

Dean looks sideways at Castiel with an amused smile. "I'll bet."

"Are you flirting with me, Dean?" It comes out unexpectedly, without Castiel's permission, but it's okay--it isn't demanding or even particularly bothered sounding. It almost sounded like flirting in its own right, with Castiel even smirking a bit. Dean practically did a double take, looking at Castiel in surprise at his directness.

"Maybe," is all Dean says, and Castiel can't decide whether that response is satisfying or not.

Castiel spends the rest of the ride staring out the window, enjoying the look of the thin blanket of snow covering the earth, while Dean nods his head along to a song that Castiel doesn't recognize.

When they pull into Dean's driveway, a thought occurs to Castiel, one that he should have most likely thought of earlier. "Isn't your dad home?"

Dean looks straight ahead, taking his time to put the car into park and slump back against his seat. "My dad,"  he began, "isn't home very much."

"Oh," Castiel says, and he feels ridiculously unequipped to deal with things like this. But Dean continues, despite Castiel's lack of ability to offer any sort of advice.

"After mom died, he kind of freaked out. You know, whatever. We started moving around a lot for him to do these odd jobs; _I_ don't even know the half of what he's done." He runs a hand through his hair. "Even now, he got this house for us to live in, even though he and Sammy are gonna be here even after I'm gone, and he's rarely home. When he is it's hell either way, but God knows what he does in the day. I don't care, s'long as Sammy is okay."

"And you... raise Sam yourself?"

"Pretty much. I mean, as best as a kid like me can."

"'Kid like you'?"

Dean blinks, and when he does, his eyes stay shut for just a beat too long, inhaling just a bit too deeply. Then he looks over at Castiel with a grin and says, "We're going to go play Halo, and I'm gonna laugh at you trying to figure out which button does what."

"You don’t plan to show me how to control it?"

Dean smiles evilly. "Good luck."

 

#

 

"Where's Sam?" Castiel wonders aloud once he steps inside, recalling that Sam is home sick.

"Upstairs, sleeping. We'll just have to be quiet."

They aren't quiet.

In less than ten minutes, they're sat in front of the TV. This is how it goes:

"I don't understand, Dean, why do we have to kill people?"

"What do you mean? It's a first person shooter, what else would you do?"

"It's unnecessarily violent. I much prefer games such as Harvest Moon."

"What the hell is Harvest Moon?"

"You get to lead a life in a peaceful village, run a farm, and find friendship and love amongst the townspeople--"

" _What the hell._ "

"It's quite fun, actually. And not nearly as ridiculous as it may sound. Which button do I press?"

"To do what? There are, like, thirty buttons."

"That is an extreme hyperbole, Dean, there can't be more than--wait, why is the screen spinning?"

"Cas, that's the thing to adjust the camera. The one on the left is to move."

"Oh."

"You're supposed to shoot, Cas."

"I don't know how!"

"Like this!"

"Like _what_ \--what did you do, Dean? My side of the screen is black."

"Oh, I, uh--"

"Did you _shoot_ me?"

"Maybe."

" _Dean Winchester, I will destroy you_."

"Maybe you will, if you ever figure out how to shoot your--holy shit, Cas, _don't you dare_ \--"

...

"I have a tank."

"I see that."

"I just killed you with my tank."

"Yeah, I, uh, see that."

"I think I rather like this game."

#

They kill a few hours playing that. Cas had quickly managed to understand the controls, far faster than Dean had anticipated, and he seemed to be having great fun killing him repeatedly just to see Dean's outraged reactions. Dean stands up and crosses the room to switch off the game, before collapsing back down on the couch. And, yeah, maybe he is sitting a little bit close to Cas. So what?

As he sits, Cas says, "What are your plans for after high school?" in the same way as he might ask what his plans are for this weekend.

Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking at Cas for a moment before pulling himself back together. Then he shrugs dismissively as he says, "Probably stay in the area, work at some garage or something. Whatever."

"Don't you want to go to college?" Cas asks, pulling his eyebrows together again and going back to that damn confused puppy look that is pretty much the bane of Dean's sexual frustration.

"Of course I want to go to college, Cas, everybody wants to go to college. It's just not something that I can do," he says. He just wants Cas to drop the subject.

"Why not?" It looks like it truly baffles him, that Dean could possibly think that he can't do something with just sheer will power.

Dean sighs. "I just... can't. If I did, I don't know how Sammy possibly could--and I just can't do that to him, you know? He's been talking about Stanford law school since the freaking sixth grade."

"But there are scholarships, financial aid--"

"Cas, the hardest class I'm taking is our math class together, and the rest of it I'm basically failing. I've never even been in an extracurricular club, I get straight C's, and I've had shitty attendance my whole life. Even if I did do something--engineering, maybe, whatever, I don't see why any college would take me," Dean interrupted.

"The world will always need engineers, and there's no one better than you."

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed dismissively. "I can take apart an engine with my eyes closed, but that isn't what colleges are looking for.”

"I'm serious, Dean," Cas said, his bright blue eyes watching Dean with determination.

"So am I. I'm fine with living here, I'll work at a salvage yard, maybe open my own garage if I'm lucky."

Cas studies him for some time, longer than is at all comfortable, before a look of understanding passes over him. "I see."

"What, exactly, do you see?"

"You don't think you deserve it."

Dean gives him a wary look that is beginning to tilt toward the angry side of the spectrum. "Dammit, Cas, it doesn't matter what anyone deserves, it matters what cards we're dealt. Whether I want to go or not, I'm not going to, and that's the way things are."

Cas doesn't flinch, doesn't look away, doesn't even blink, just watches Dean like it's his job. When Cas moves his eyes away from Dean, he lets out a small "Okay, Dean." And it's like a spell is broken and Dean can breathe again, which is weird, because when did he hold his breath and when did he get this close to Cas, and why is he leaning forward and--

They're are mere inches separating them, and Dean can't pull his eyes off of Cas's lips, and he can't help but wonder what they would feel like. Cas is watching Dean carefully, leaning forward _just barely_ , and Dean feels the gap between them closing, and he wonders if this is going to be how it happens--after playing Halo, arguing about Dean's future, in Dean's living room, with Sammy asleep upstairs.

It's like the thought summons him, because then Dean and Cas are both whipping around, their cheeks coloring, at the sound of stairs creaking underneath Sam's weight. Dean scoots back a little, and Cas clears his throat.

When Sammy appears in the living room, nose red, dark circles under his eyes, looking like the dictionary definition of "sick", Cas and Dean are still frozen like that, pulled away from each other, carefully avoiding eye contact. Sam looks at them carefully, looking painfully exhausted and vaguely confused, clutching a fleece blanket around his shoulders rather adorably.

"Aren't you guys supposed to be at school?" Dean can't help but laugh, because even when Sam is sick and his stuffed up nose is making him sound hilarious, he still acts like an over protective mom.

"Yes," Cas responds. "I was, however, informed that I am not properly living life if I've not broken any rules."

Sam nods. "Oh. So Dean forced you to skip school."

Dean scratches at the back of his neck. "Yeah, pretty much," he admits.

Sam doesn't even react, just stands miserably in the silence, oblivious to both Cas and Dean's eyes watching him expectantly, before announcing, "My throat hurts."

Cas leaps up, and Dean almost flinches at how much it seemed that Cas was just waiting for an excuse to put some distance between him and Dean. "Do you have any tea?" he asks. Sam nods and gestures vaguely toward one of the cabinets, and then promptly collapses on the couch next to Dean, sprawling out across it. "I'm out of tissues," he complains. Dean sighs.

"I can stay here with Sam if you wish to quickly purchase tissues and possibly some cough medicine."

Dean looks at the door before casting Cas a grateful look. "Okay. Thanks. I'll be back in less than fifteen minutes." Cas opens one of the cupboards and pulls out a box with tea, and that's all Dean sees before he's out the door.

 

#

 

"He likes you a lot," Sam observes from over at the couch.

Castiel scoffs, and continues to open random cabinets in search of a kettle and a mug.

"I'm serious. I can tell. He's like, in love with you."

"You're sick and you aren't making sense."

"I'm making perfect sense, Cas, and you know it." Castiel doesn't respond. "And you like him too."

"Yes."

"So what the hell are you guys waiting for?" Sam demands, like it's that easy.

Castiel gives him a glance to find that he's sitting up on the couch, leaning back on his hands and watching Castiel carefully.

Castiel considers the question. Everyone seems so sure that Dean is in love with Castiel, just like Castiel is with Dean. And it's surprising, how easy it is to admit that he is in love with Dean. It doesn't feel like a revelation, it feels like the truth. Either way, Castiel can't bring himself to believe that Dean feels the same way. Even if he did tell Dean, tell him how he feels and ask in return, or even if he just went bold and kissed him, he fears he would screw everything up, Dean would say he didn't feel that way. Dean would say he would want to just be friends, but everything would be awkward, and they would slowly drift apart until they weren't even friends at all anymore, and Dean could be the popular guy who Castiel knows he should be, Castiel can go back to his small circle of weirdo friends, and that would be that.

"It isn't that simple," Castiel says.

"Yes it _is_ ," Sam insists. Before continuing, he breaks into a series of coughs. Then he says, "He likes you, he--he _more than likes_ you. And you like him. So you guys should just, like, kiss and be done with it all."

"You're sick."

"I'm _sick_ , not _drunk_ , Cas, and I'm also right."

Castiel finds a kettle and switches on the stove, rather than responding. He fills the kettle with water as Sam continues.

"He's too afraid of messing things up to do anything."

Castiel mumbles, "Well, that makes two of us," but not loud enough for Sam to hear it.

In the few minutes it takes for Castiel to finish making the tea, pour it into a mug, and bring it over to where Sam is, Sam is already fast asleep. Castiel sets the cup onto the coffee table in front of him and wonders how probable it is that there is any possible way for him to find enough room on the couch to sit.

Of course not. Sam is sprawled out completely, one arm tucked into his chest, the other straight out to the side, hanging off the couch. He's tall enough already, but his legs are spread across the length of the couch, making him take up even more room. His hair, which Dean has constantly teased him for for being so long, is spread around his face. His mouth is hanging open, and he's beginning to snore. Loudly.

Castiel glances around, unsure of what to do at Dean's house when he isn't there and Sam is asleep. He takes Sam's fleece blanket, which had pooled on the ground next to the couch, and spreads it over Sam gently. Okay. Now what? He looks around at the walls, still bare despite it being November and the Winchesters having had plenty of time to unpack. It's even more depressingly empty than the first time he'd been here, and there's nothing to look at to keep himself busy.

That's okay, though, because at that moment, the door opens. Castiel turns, expecting Dean. He should have known, of course, that it wouldn't be him. Everything is going too well. The way the door swings open, the sound of footsteps in the foyer, they don't sound like Dean.

John Winchester flings the keys onto the counter without grace, sighing as he takes off his jacket and tossing it over a chair, still oblivious to Castiel.

Castiel, who is hovering awkwardly, suddenly stiff and not knowing what to do. Then John looks over, finally taking notice. It only occurs to him at that moment that he's never met Dean's dad. (But then, Dean has never met Cas's mom, so it isn't completely strange.)

John opens his mouth, and his voice isn't kind or joking or immediately friendly as Dean's had been the first time they'd met. It is gruff and angry sounding. Which might make sense, seeing as he had just walked into his house to find a weird teenage boy lingering awkwardly beside his unconscious youngest son.

"Who are you?" he demands. It's a fair question.

"Uh, I am Castiel Novak. I live just over there," he says, managing to keep his voice steady as he gestures in the direction of his house. "I'm one of Dean's friends."

John's eyes narrow at Castiel as he looks up and down at him. "And what are you doing in my house?" He takes a step forward, and it takes a lot of willpower for Castiel not to step backward to put distance between them.

"Sam is sick. Dean--uh--we--"

The sound of the door opening again causes both Castiel and John to turn. Dean comes in, holding a plastic bag of groceries, saying "Look, Sammy, I even got the _aloe infused_ ones with--" he cuts off when he finally looks up to see Castiel and John standing in front of each other in what probably looks like a standoff to an outsider. It's starting to feel like a standoff to Castiel, too. Dean immediately straightens, like some sort of soldier who'd been trained, and it freaks Castiel out more than a little. Dean always seems so easy-going, and just the presence of his father seems to ruin this.

"Uh, Dad--"

"What's going on, Dean?" John asks, with a very no-nonsense feel to it.

"Sam is sick," Dean responds.

"So I've gathered."

"I, uh, stayed home to take care of him, and, Cas, I usually give him a ride, and he said he'd stay too." He pauses, trying to figure out if he covered everything. "I was just getting tissues," he adds, holding up the bag.

John steps toward Dean. "You should be in school. I can take care of Sammy."

"I just--" Dean looks up, directly at John, almost challenging. "I just can never tell if you'll actually be home."

"Watch your mouth, Dean," John threatens almost menacingly.

Dean looks downward, avoiding John's eyes, and it breaks Castiel's heart to watch one of the strongest people he knows seem so afraid. "Yes, Sir," he mumbles. Castiel still stands watching in what may possibly be horror, especially when Dean looks up at his Dad carefully before asking, "Are you drunk?"

Castiel almost doesn't know how he missed it. John had been steady on his feet, his voice carefully enunciated, but he was swaying ever so slightly, his eyes were slightly glazed over, and it was all too clear that he was indeed drunk, and that this happened very often.

John took a step toward Dean, and Dean flinched.

That said it all, and Castiel had to speak up, _was_ speaking up before he could stop himself. "Mr. Winchester, Dean and I were just--" He was cut off by Dean, and Castiel couldn't help but wince at the cold tone in his voice. He couldn't tell if it was directed at him or due to his father.

"Castiel, I think it's best if you leave." It didn't go unnoticed by Castiel that he hadn't used his nickname, that he'd spoken properly and almost forced.

Rustling from behind him makes him glance over his shoulder. Sam is sitting up, sniffling, mumbling some sort of inquiry about what is going on. He is ignored as Castiel curtly nods and makes his way out, not even bothering to grab his stuff. He figures he can get it back in a bit when everything has hopefully cooled off. It almost physically pains Castiel to leave Dean and Sam with John, who is drunk, and who seems to have done less-than-kind things to Dean. He wants more than anything to stay there. He wants so badly to stand by Dean's side as they battle it out, wants to tell John that he can't hurt Dean or Sam, not with him there, but he doesn't.

Sam is already standing, looking far too guarded as he looks over the situation. That's all he sees before he leaves, the squeak of the door hinges seeming far too loud as he swings the door shut behind him on the house. Castiel has to stand in front of the door and breathe for a second, trying to convince himself that it's better if he leaves them for now, that Dean had done this before and would be okay, that he can leave and it will all be fine.

He returns to his house, walking in on the silence. It's empty. He has no idea where Anna and Gabriel are, which is typical. He sits down on the couch, wastes about ten minutes staring at the wall while thinking about absolutely nothing.

The next five minutes he spends trying to find a reason to go back. He did leave his backpack in Dean's car, and his wallet is in the kitchen where he'd left it. Now, he's also realizing he had also left his phone in the living room where they had been playing video games.

Those were good reasons.

When he gets up, he repeats that to himself, _he's just getting his stuff_ , and his returning has nothing to do with the fact that he'd left his friends alone with a horrible person, nothing to do with him wanting to make sure that Dean was fine and not being yelled at or punished or--a range of horrific images of a broken body pass through his mind, and he tries desperately to push them away because _no_ , that couldn't possibly happen.

If Castiel begins walking faster, though, at least no one is around to notice.

He gets to the front of the house and spends another two minutes just staring at the door, fighting the urge to pace, unsure. Should he really intrude? If he's honestly concerned for Dean and Sam's safety, he has every right to be here, doesn't he? Well, probably not. Does he knock? No, definitely not. But he can't just march in and--

His question is answered when the door opens, just barely an inch. Sam's face peeks through. Castiel assumes that Sam had seen him through the window. He crane his head, trying to see past Sam, but for a barely fourteen-year-old, he is tall. He can see the tops of Dean and John's heads, and can tell that they are at least a few feet away from each other, and neither appears to be injured.

"You should go, Cas," Sam whispers, and Castiel's heart breaks further.

From behind Sam, Dean's voice carries outside for Castiel to hear: "You think this is about _Cas?_ "

John says something in return, but Castiel can't hear it from his position. Where Dean is loud and shouting, John is talking in a quiet and serious tone that is somehow even more menacing.

Dean shouts, "He doesn't have to do with any of this--he's just a friend!"

Castiel tries to convince himself that the words don't hurt him at all. He fails.

Sam glances over his shoulder and gives Castiel an apologetic look before attempting to shut the door, Castiel puts a hand on it to keep it from closing, pulling it open a few more inches so he can see. Dean nor John seem to notice, and Sam just gives him a look and then turns to watch, very clearly unsure what to do.

"He's _just a friend_ ," Dean repeats. "He--he's barely even that! We just hang out, whatever."

The words are a stab to the chest, and Castiel works to make himself believe that Dean is just angry, that Dean doesn't mean it. It's no big deal.

Then Dean continues, "It doesn't mean anything. _He_ doesn't mean anything."

Castiel freezes for a split second before whirling around and out the door again. Behind him, the door snaps shut, and he hears voices behind him.

"What was that?" It sounds like John.

"What are you doing, Sammy?" That's Dean.

The door swings open.

"Cas?" A pause. "How much did he hear?"

"Enough," is Sam's response.

" _Shit._ I didn't--Cas!"

He hears Dean's voice calling after him, but he keeps walking, going fast, ignoring it. He goes into his house, and he doesn't the pitiful look Sam gave Dean, the one that says _You fucked up_ , and he doesn't see the slight smirk on John's face.

Castiel closes the door behind him and stands alone in the empty house. He does not cry.

 

#

 

Castiel finds the stuff he left at Dean’s house on his front porch the next morning. He isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that Dean hadn’t tried to talk to him. But then, maybe Dean didn’t care and it had been Sam who had dropped it off.

Castiel asks Anna to drive him to school. Because she is such a good sister, and because she can probably see in Castiel's eyes that he doesn't want to talk about it, she doesn't ask questions. She just squeezes his shoulder and nods, saying that _of course she will_.

Castiel doesn't answer any of Dean's phone calls or messages. He would like to be able to say that he didn't read them, but he did. He read every one. He leans his head against the window, watching the world go by, and is grateful that Gabriel is filling the silence with complaints about Castiel getting to ride shotgun.

#

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Cas?" Charlie practically materializes, her voice meeting him the moment he steps into the school with Anna. Castiel and Charlie simultaneously cast her a glance (almost scarily in unison), and she uncomfortably waves in a way of surrendering Castiel to the conversation, heading off toward his next class. She gives Castiel a look that seems to say everything perfectly--I love you, be careful, don't be too sad.

"Where were you yesterday?" She sounds very similar to a strict mother.

Castiel sighs, giving her his best _mind-your-own-business_ look. It falls flat. Even so, he explains in no more than a mumble, "Dean and I skipped school." He can imagine saying these words in different circumstances, if the day hadn't ended like they had. Maybe he would have said it shyly, in a whisper, like girls gossiping about crushes, giggling behind their hands.

"What was that?" Charlie asks, leaning in.

"Dean and I skipped school," Castiel repeats, ever so slightly louder. It almost pains him to say his name.

Charlie gasps. "You _didn't_."

Castiel nods.

" _You_ skipped school? Castiel, straight-A student, Goodie-Two-Shoes, not a toe out of line-- _that_ Castiel?"

Castiel nods again, and he isn't amused by Charlie's exaggerations like he usually is.

" _Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?!_ "

Castiel tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing in confusion. "I don't understand. I am Castiel, I _am_ your best--"

"Now is not the time for not understanding things, Cas!" she interrupts. "You were with Dean?"

Castiel nods again, his face controlled and lacking emotions.

"Alright, Cas, we have to talk seriously. Like, now."

"Can't this wait?"

"No. Absolutely not. And don't think you can run."

"Obviously not."

Castiel's eyes widen a little bit when he realizes exactly what she means--serious talk, about Dean Winchester. With all of her joking and teasing on the subject of his...predicament, he could have fooled himself into believing that this would not happen. Of course, Charlie is Charlie, and therefore cuts him no slack. "Oh," he swallows heavily. " _That_ conversation."

They don't talk on their way to the cafeteria, where a lot of students wait before school starts, but as soon as they've sat down, Charlie looks Castiel straight in the eyes, looking very serious.

"I'm not gonna tease about this anymore, okay? We're talking straight up, like the grown adults we are, because it physically pains me to watch this for another second. Are you physically, romantically, or sexually attracted to Dean Winchester?"

Castiel glances away for a moment before remembering that this is _Charlie_ , his best friend, the one who's been there for him since he was sitting alone in the courtyard that first day of high school; who, for all of her teasing, has always been supportive. Still, he doesn't know how to answer after yesterday. Yes, he _had_ been attracted to Dean, and he most definitely still is, but it seems wrong to say so now, after everything. But he can't lie to Charlie, so he meets her eyes and says, simply, "Yes."

"Are you... more than just generally attracted to him?"

Castiel takes a breath before confirming this with a minuscule nod, not meeting her eyes.

"Thank God. Now, tell me, flat out, the extent of your feelings for Dean." And because she's Charlie, and she gets a kick out of herself, and she just can't help it, she adds, "In MLA format."

Castiel glowers. "I can't just--" he waves his hands around in an elaborate gesture that probably makes no sense.

"Yes you can, and you need to, because you need to get it out there if you're gonna get your shit together."

"It doesn't matter, though," Castiel tries.

"It _does_ matter, just spit it out!"

Castiel sighs and considers his words, trying to find some way to phrase it properly. "Do you know what it's like when one person, just one person, seems like the most extraordinary person in the world?" he begins, and it pours out of his mouth, so easily, like it's been dying to get out and now that Castiel is letting it, it won't stop.  "It doesn't matter if they're perfectly ordinary or completely extraordinary, they just have a special force that pulls you inexplicably closer every day. They're the only person who tries to understand your soul, and you don't have to worry about explaining yourself to them. Someone who's actually worth the time and energy it takes to connect with another person, except it doesn't take any of your energy, and you love every moment of it." He pauses. "That's Dean."

Charlie watches him for a second, and Castiel can tell she is surprised by the sudden outburst. Then he sighs. "It... _was_ Dean. Used to be. It doesn't matter anymore."

Charlie grabs Castiel's arm. "Like _hell_ it doesn't matter! Why do you keep saying it doesn't matter?"

Castiel gives her a look that could kill, and her joking resigns, a look of realization dawning on her face. "What happened?"

"I... he said some things, I don't know. It doesn't matter if I like him like that, because he doesn't feel that way about me."

"Are you blind or are you just stupid?"

"Am I--wait, what?" Castiel blinks, taken aback by Charlie's sudden gruffness.

"I _said_ , are you blind or are you stupid? Because you cannot sit here and tell me that that big idiot is not completely in love with you unless you are physically blind or mentally stupid."

"I--"

"Are you oblivious to the constant flirting then?"

"Dean flirts with everyone," Castiel mumbles.

"He does. But _you're_ the only one he flirts with with that look in his eye."

"What look? I have no idea what you're talking about." Castiel is honestly baffled, and he senses Charlie growing impatient.

"He looks at you like you're the only thing that matters, like you hung the moon yourself!"

"That doesn't mean anything. That could be just as a friend."

"God, Cas, it physically pains me how emotionally constipated you both are. I love you to death, but, that look in Dean's eyes when he watches you, I don't have that when I look at you. I have that when I look at Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow, or, fucking--Hermione Granger!"

Castiel gives her a helpless look. "He doesn't matter."

"What?"

"That's what he said, about me."

"No he didn't."

"He _did_ , Charlie."

"No, he wouldn't have. I'm not kidding anymore, Cas, I'm serious when I say he's really, honestly, you know, in love with you."

" _It doesn't matter,_ " Castiel repeats.

"But what actually happened? He wouldn't have said that unless something crazy happened--"

Castiel cuts her off, and honest anger like this toward Charlie is very rare. "Just _stop_ , Charlie, I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay--just, you have to talk to him, at least, you have to--"

"I don't ' _have to_ ' do anything, Charlie." He shoots her a near murderous glare and storms out of the cafeteria. It's only as he's entering the hallway that holds his first class that he remembers that Dean will be here. In class with him.

He is overwhelmed by a flurry of thoughts. Would Dean not even look at him? He might be there when Castiel walks in, sitting in their usual desks, like nothing had happened at all. Maybe Dean would be hanging out with some pretty girl, someone less awkward than Castiel who understands pop culture references, is normal, is beautiful and, most importantly, is a woman. Maybe Dean would try to talk to him, say he hadn't meant it. Part of Castiel wants this, but the other part wants to stay mad, wants Dean to realize that he had hurt him.

But then, Dean might not even care.

He takes a deep breath as he reaches the classroom, because this is all ridiculous. Dean doesn't care, so neither does he.

When he walks into the classroom, he finds that his problem is irrelevant; Dean isn't here yet. He glances at his watch; the bell will ring in about five minutes. For a moment he wonders where Dean is, before he reminds himself that he doesn't care.

Castiel goes straight to the corner in the back of the room, by the window. It's in the back, and the seat in front of and to the right of it are both already occupied, making it the perfect seat to avoid Dean. He doesn't care if his anger isn't exactly subtle, or that he gets a few glances from the people who had formerly joked about Dean and Castiel being gay lovers.

Speaking of--

The girl to the right of Castiel has long and thick dark hair that falls in waves around a round face. Castiel thinks he remembers that her name is Meg. She leans over to him with a smirk that seems permanent and an arched eyebrow, speaking in a sultry voice. "Trouble in paradise?"

Castiel casts her a cold look before looking pointedly out the window. It's gray and dull-looking outside, wet and soggy, frost creeping up on the windows. He leans his head against it, not minding the cold press of glass against his cheeks, and watches as each of his exhales fog up the glass.

Meg is not even slightly swayed. "I can help you get your mind off it, if you need?" She gives a mischievous smile, her eyes sparking. She's looking at him, up and down, like she wants to devour him.

Castiel does the first thing that pops into his mind; namely, blurting out "I'm gay."

Meg just laughs. "I was teasing, dork. We all know you're totally hooked on Deano over there. Hence the 'trouble in paradise' question that you've yet to answer."

"There is no trouble, nor is there any sort of theoretical 'paradise'. Nothing is going on between Dean and I."

"Nothing?" Meg huffs in disbelief, her already raised eyebrow climbing higher up her forehead.

" _Nothing_ ," Castiel insists. He gives a valiant effort at attempting to believe his own words. He turns back toward the window for a minute, then immediately turns back to face the front of the room when he spots a familiar black muscle car.

The bell rings before Meg can pursue a continuation of the conversation, and they take attendance. About five minutes later, Dean walks in the door wielding a small slip of paper excusing his tardiness.

Castiel sees him glance at the seats that they usually occupy, both of them empty. It is in slow motion when his eyes drift over to the corner of the room where Cas is sitting. Their eyes lock, and Castiel tries to glare. He finds that he can't summon any anger or frustration or even hurt when Dean is looking at him like _that._ Like he's sorry, like he wants to talk to Castiel, like _he_ is hurt and feeling remorse, and just--fuck that. Castiel pulls his eyes away from his and looks down at his math homework. He's already finished the homework, but he has nothing else to use as a distraction from Dean, and from Meg and the other students who are watching this brief interaction with great interest.

And now Castiel just wants _out_. He doesn't want to be a spectacle, something that these kids are watching like it's a soap opera, and he knows that rumors will be flying, everyone thinking that they know what's happening, taking the words of their friend in Algebra for gospel.

And, okay, Castiel doesn't really mind gossip. He does, however, mind the fact that Dean sits down in his usual seat and casts a glance over his shoulder toward him. He looks almost miserable.

Castiel stands up and asks for a hall pass to go to the library. He takes the paper and flees to the silent hallway. He doesn't go to the library; he doesn't know where to go. He wishes Charlie was here, because she would probably be able to convince him to go get ice cream during the period and return afterward.

More, though, he wishes that Dean was there to say out loud what his eyes already did, to say he didn't mean it. Even though he wants to talk to Dean, he knows he won't. He is painfully stubborn, and he will not break first, not when Dean had said none of it mattered. Dean had not only denied their friendship but also any chance of the _something more_ that their relationship had been heading toward. At least, Castiel had thought it was heading in that direction, but then, he may have misread everything.

The sound of the door clicking open behind him makes him turn, and he very briefly considers making a run for it when he sees who it is, before deciding that he's being an _idiot_.

He turns to the new addition. "Hello, Dean."

"Cas..."

Castiel stays silent, waiting.

"I, uh... What's up?"

Something in Castiel's stomach drops at the words, and he knows that that is not what Dean had meant to say at all, he _knows_ that, but he can't _do_ this right now, because Dean doesn't understand that he can turn Castiel inside out with a single sentence. Dean doesn't understand that how important what Dean says right now is.

"' _What's up_ '?" Castiel repeats. He blinks, twice, staring at Dean with such spirit.

"I--Cas, what I said--I screwed up, I didn't mean..."

Castiel waits a moment, waiting for Dean to collect his thoughts, waiting for him to _say something_ but he doesn't, just keeps looking at Castiel as if that stammered-out series of incomplete sentences is enough.

Castiel's mouth reacts faster than his mind. "You were right." _No_. "It didn't mean anything." _It means_ everything. "Just someone to hang out with, someone to use so that you aren't alone." _But it's so much more_. "I get it, I understand, okay?" _I don't understand, Dean, please, make me understand._ "Nothing about this, friends or otherwise, was ever going to last." _It could be so beautiful_. "I just--no. Whatever. It has been very entertaining." _It's been so perfect_.

Castiel shivers at the cold tone of his own voice, of the cutting words that he knows he doesn't mean, at the feeling of all of the words he wants to say but can't. He turns and to head down the hall, walking briskly, before he can risk blurting out something like "I love you." It's mostly to avoid seeing Dean's face.

"Cas, I was just mad, I--I still want to be _friends,_ " Dean tries. Castiel ignores him. It feels ridiculously like a breakup. "I want to be friends," he said, just friends, that's it. And Castiel could do that, he could be best friends with Dean like they used to be, they could be fine. He wants to, but something in what Dean said before and is saying now stings, and he just _can't_.

"I don't," Castiel says simply, wishing again that Dean would understand the words he really means.

Dean looks like he wants to say more, and Castiel is really close to letting him. Instead, he turns and walks briskly down the hallway.

Dean doesn't follow him. Castiel can't tell if he's disappointed or relieved. Really, he just feels like an idiot.

#

Charlie practically attacks the second she finds him in the hallway on the way to science. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yes."

Charlie sighs. It's like pulling teeth, trying to get her favorite moron to talk.. " _And_?"

"And, nothing. This whole thing was stupid."

"What. The. Hell." She honestly can't believe how freaking stupid both of these idiots are being. Obviously, they both care a lot. Obviously, they're both in love. And _clearly_ , they're both too stupid to realize and/or say so.

"Just leave it, Charlie."

" _Like hell_!" She deals him a glare, one that seems suspiciously like a mom's _I'll-talk-to-you-later_ look, and then pivots to rocket down the hallway in the opposite direction.

She vaguely hears Cas calling after her, asking where she's going, but she's too busy scanning the crowd of teens for the sticky-uppy light hair and leather jacket of one Dean Winchester.

She weaves through the students, not pausing as she calls out "'Scuse me!" and "Sorry!" and "Don't mind me, carry on." Finally, she reaches him, and she grabs his arm, pulling him toward the edge of the hall near the lockers.

She's halfway through the phrase "what the hell" when she sees his face. He looks so distressed, frustrated, and downright sad. That expression does not belong on the face of Dean Winchester, the face that has always been so happy, constantly grinning. _Fuck it_ , she decides, and pulls him into a brief yet fierce hug. Then she pushes him back again.

"What the hell," she states. It isn't a question.

"I screwed up."

"Yeah, I got that much. What happened, and why is it not fixed yet?"

"I just said some stupid stuff that I didn't mean."

Charlie practically hisses in exasperation. "Yes, okay, would you like to elaborate on that?"

Dean gives her an exhausted look that kicks Charlie's heart in the worst way. He looks at her, just looks at her, for a moment, before sighing as if in defeat. "I said that he didn't matter, and we were barely even friends, and I didn't care about him."

"W- _why_?" Charlie sputters.

"I was just saying what I thought would get my dad to shut up! I don't know, I--" he rakes a hand through his hair. "I didn't even realize he was there, I thought it was just me and Sammy and Dad."

Charlie sighs, glances over her shoulder at the dwindling number of students in the hallways, before promptly deciding that she doesn't give a damn about being late to class. "So what you're saying is, your dad High School Musical'd your ass?"

Dean blinks. "What?"

"High School Musical? Troy says stuff to get his teammates to back off, and Gabriella hears and then--" she sees Dean's blank face, and blanches. " _You've never seen High School Musical?!_ "

"That's not important!"

Charlie sighs. Stupid idiot was right. But that doesn't mean that after this whole mess is over she isn't going to force him to watch it. "Okay, so what happened after that?"

"He ran off, I tried to stop him so I could explain, but..." he trailed off with a vague hand gesture.

"Have you tried to talk to him since?"

He looks away. The bell sounds, but they both ignore it. "I talked to him during study hall. He said he wanted nothing to do with me, basically."

"What the hell did you say to him?" Cas wouldn't have said that, right?

"I told him I didn't mean it, that I still wanted us to be friends and--"

Charlie freezes, realization dawning. _Duh_. "Why would you say that?"

"Why would I--why would I say _what_?" Dean asked, looking really confused. "I--I _do_ want to be friends."

"He wants to be _more than friends_ , you idiot." Charlie shakes her head in disbelief at both of their stupidity. "It's not exactly a secret that he's freaking in love with you, and it's pretty obvious that you feel the same way. And from what  he's told me, even _he_ was starting to think that you... you know."

"Shit," is all Dean says.

"Yeah, shit indeed. So does that mean you _are_ in love with him? Just for confirmation."

The pained look she receives in exchange is answer enough.

She can't believe she has to literally spell this out for him, but she does:

" _Then tell him, you fucking coward._ "

Dean looks terrified, but he also looks like he understands. He nods, really slowly, and Charlie figures her work is done. These idiots will be the end of her.

#

Dean doesn't talk to him again for the rest of the day, and Castiel fears that he is listening to what he said, that he _believes_ it. He wants to say screw it all, go sit by Dean and pretend nothing happened.

He might have. But Dean is sitting by Lisa again.

Lisa, who is trailing a hand down his arm, leaning in too close, smiling and batting her eyelashes. Castiel looks down at his books, trying really hard to ignore the sounds of her giggling, but he can't.

Lunch is the same. He sees Dean sit down at Lisa's table, and he doesn't even bother trying to control his staring. He shoots daggers down at the table, at the back of Dean's head, like it's his job.

Charlie looks on sympathetically. Garth doesn't seem to understand what's going on. Kevin is passed out, using his history book as a pillow. Castiel finds that he isn’t very hungry.

#

Castiel rides home from school with Anna. He spends the ride trying too hard to convince himself that that doesn't bother him at all.

 

#

 

Castiel is sitting in his room doing homework. It's a paper that's due tomorrow that he hadn't even started on. (Something that Anna had no qualms teasing him about; " _You_ haven't started on your homework yet? _Castiel Novak_ is _procrastinating_?" He had slammed his bedroom door in her face with a scowl.) Rain is pounding on the roof, and it's vaguely relaxing. The sky is just beginning to grow darker. That is when it happens.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, a short ring sounding. He pulls it out and frowns at Dean's name. He considers closing it, deleting it, throwing his phone across the room.

But then, Castiel has never had much control when it comes to Dean.

He opens it with a sigh, vowing that he won't reply. Two words are on the screen.

 _Come outside_.

Castiel is not going to look outside, he is not going to do it, fuck, no he isn't. Not. Going. To. Happen.

Castiel pushes away from his desk and walks over to his window. He pushes it open, looking outside. He spots a dark figure in the gray light of the evening. He isn't holding an umbrella.

"It's raining," he calls out flatly. Dean turns at the sound of his voice, adjusting his position on the lawn (which is steadily growing soggy) so that he can see Castiel.

"Yeah," is all Dean says.

"What do you want?" Castiel says, and even he can tell how resigned his voice sounds.

Deans sighs. "It would be easier if you came down here..." He kicks at the ground, fidgeting slightly.

"I'm fine here."

Dean nods, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Okay... I..." Another deep breath. "In about five minutes, there's a ninety five percent chances I'm going to look like a complete idiot. And a five percent chance I'm going to be punching the air in joy. But either way, there's something I've got to say."

Castiel swallows heavily.

"I'm so sorry about what I said. I didn't mean any of it--in fact, those were the biggest lies I think I've ever told. I was just mad, and my dad was saying things, and I just said whatever I could to get him to back off. And I don't usually do these... things." He waves his hands around. "I don't do friends and I don't do whatever this is with you, and, I definitely don't do these huge dramatic speeches. I'm really bad at this. But--" he takes another deep breath.

"I'm in love with you. I'm in love with your wide blue puppy eyes, and your stupid hair that always makes you look like you just rolled out of bed, and your ridiculous trench coat. I'm in love with the fact that you know the differences between a trench coat and an _over_ coat, and I'm in love with how you talk so properly like it's old English or something, and I don't understand half of what you say, but I love it.  I'm in love with how you don't understand ninety percent of my references but you laugh anyway just to make me feel better, I'm in love with your addiction to cheeseburgers, I'm in love with the fact that you stare too much and stand way too close to everyone and you don't even notice, I'm even in love with how you like ridiculous farming video games more than Halo, and that's weird and just _wrong_ , but I love it. I have no idea why I'm in love with you, but I am. I really, really am, so for God's sake will you come down here so I can kiss you now or what?"

Castiel is down the stairs and outside faster than he thought possible, leaving his window open and letting the rain into his room, but he finds himself unable to care. He barely hears Anna calling after him, asking where he's going and what's going on.

He doesn't care that Dean is soaked through, cold, and shivering, because then he's pressed up against him in the rain, mouth against mouth, and maybe Castiel is getting soaked too, but he doesn't care about any of that.

Because Dean said just the right thing, and he loves him too. He closes his eyes, fluttering eyelashes, moving his lips under Dean's.

He pulls back finally, just a breath of space between them, laughing just a bit when Dean tries to follow him back. "This is so cliche," he whispers against his lips. "Dramatic love declarations, me looking down from the window, kissing in the rain--"

He feels Dean's huff of laughter against his lips. "Shut up," Dean laughs, and then leans down again to kiss him again, hands on Castiel's hips, Castiel's wrapped around his neck.

He hears his front door open, and he hears Anna gasp in excitement and call Gabe over. He hears something that sounds like "About freaking time" followed by Gabe saying, "You couldn't have waited until Christmas? I had ten bucks riding on that!", followed by the smacking sound of Anna slapping him on the arm.

But Dean and Cas, they don't pay them any attention, because they're both just downright giddy. They're smiling too much to kiss properly, and Dean finally pulls back.

Castiel grins. "Do you want to come inside? It's freezing and you're soaked."

Dean laughs. "You're right, that was really cliche."

"You're a cheeseball."

Dean can't help but lean forward to steal one more kiss. "Yeah, but you love it."

"I love _you_ ," Castiel corrects.

Dean kisses him again, and when he pulls back, Castiel swats his arm. "We're both gonna catch the flu, you idiot."

They go inside, and everything is just perfect.

 


	4. Ours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last actual chapter. The next one is just extra scenes.

Ours

_So don't you worry your pretty little mind_

_People throw rocks at things that shine_

_And they can't take what's ours, they can't take what's ours._

_The stakes are high, the water's rough_

_But this love is ours_.

 

Dean picks him up the next day at school, just like he always had. Sam's in the back seat, smirking like he knows exactly what happened last night. Castiel figures that he probably _does_ , since Dean tells him just about everything.

Which means Dean doesn't have any qualms holding Castiel's hand as he drives, maneuvering the car with only one hand on the steering wheel. Castiel tries not to grin, but it's nearly impossible to contain his happiness at how it all turned out.

Lunch, however, is the best part of the day, definitely.

Castiel is sitting with Kevin, Charlie, and Garth already, when Dean appears. Dean doesn't even hesitate; when he sits down next to Castiel, he pulls him immediately into a deep kiss, just a slip of tongue. When he pulls back again, they both face the group. All of them, even Charlie, are watching them with their mouths agape, stunned into silence.

Dean grins. "Hey, guys."

Charlie is the first to recover, and she does so by smirking. "About damn time."

Castiel looks to Dean. "Why is that everybody's immediate reaction. 'About time.' What does that even mean?"

"It means you're both idiots who had it coming since you first saw each other," Charlie explains seriously.

Garth recovers next. "Congrats, dude." He turns to Dean seriously. "Don't hurt him. You know, all that jazz."

Dean nods, smiling as he watches Castiel blush slightly. "You don't need to worry about that." Castiel's cheeks grow even more pink.

Kevin is still watching them, his mouth opening and closing, one finger pointing toward the two of them in amazement.

"Close your mouth, Kevin, you look like a fish," Charlie commands.

"When did--" Kevin starts before breaking off again.

"It's been coming for a long time, dumbo, you said so from the beginning," Charlie points out.

"Yeah--but--I didn't honestly expect they'd ever get their shit together."

The whole group explodes with laughter. Kevin rarely uses profanity, and when he does, everyone finds it incredibly amusing.

Dean grabs Castiel's hand again. Apparently he's big on hand holding. Castiel finds that he has no complaints, finding comfort in the warm feel of his hand.

He looks up at Dean and smiles, not able to help his happiness.

#

There isn't any huge deal. Nobody really makes a big deal out of their new relationship. Everyone seemed to have seen it coming, even Castiel's mom. (She comes home one night, late, and it's the first time Castiel has seen her in days. He and Dean are watching Star Wars, another favorite of Dean's that Castiel had never seen. They are sitting way too close, Castiel's head resting on Dean's shoulder, fingers intertwined. Castiel's eyelids are drooping, and he's just falling asleep when the front door opens. He momentarily considers leaping across the couch, putting distance between the two of them, before remembering that he didn't care who knew. She took a long look at them both before shrugging and heading into her bedroom, without saying a single word to either of them. Castiel isn't sure whether she honestly doesn't give a damn about him and his life, or if she had just always known that Castiel was gay.)

There are the few homophobic comments, but they are far outweighed by support they get from everyone else. Being called a "fag", Castiel finds, bothers him no more than being called a weirdo or a freak, names he'd already grown accustomed to. Dean didn't mind either, mostly worried that Castiel would feel hurt. (The first time it happened, Castiel just looks confused. "I don't understand. Why are we being called cigarettes?" Dean just laughs, and kisses him hard on the mouth. "Cas, don't ever change," he'd said.)

 

#

 

Late at night one evening, when the weather is starting to warm again, Dean and Castiel are lying side by side on top of the Impala, pressed close to each other, in the middle of nowhere. Music is playing from the radio, something that Dean likes, loud enough for them to hear from on top of the car. They're talking quietly about who knows what, looking up at the clear night sky. Maybe it is cheesy and cliche, but it's okay. Dean gets up to change the music. He climbs back onto the car carefully, sitting back down beside Castiel. Then Castiel hears and recognizes the first few notes of a familiar song.

"Taylor Swift? Really?"

Dean smiles and fits Castiel under his arm. "For old times' sake."

"Like I said: Cheeseball."

He closes his eyes, nuzzling into Dean's warmth and listening to the song. Dean stays silent.

"What are you thinking about?" Castiel mumbles, trying to swallow a yawn.

"You."

Castiel's heart warms. Dean is definitely a sap, regardless of any claims he might make.

"What about me?"

Dean kisses him deeply. He pulls back and looks at Castiel through the dark. "That, mostly."

Castiel grins.

So maybe Castiel doesn't hate Taylor Swift. She isn't so bad, and she doesn't have it all wrong. And yeah, it's cheesy, but she is sort of what brought them together in the first place. Maybe Castiel's habit of singing along to everything isn't so bad either, because as he leans into Dean's addictive touch and closes his eyes, feeling so loved and warm and _happy_ , he softly sings the lyrics of a Taylor Swift song that he definitely doesn't hate.

" _They can't take what's ours._

_The stakes are high,_

_The water's rough,_

_But this love is ours._ "

_/fin_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END NOTES  
> I'm crying a little bit right now.  
> Seriously. I'm listening to "Ours" and trying not to get choked up, but, alas, I am. I have had so so so much fun writing this, even on the days where I had to force myself to write it, days where I would have rather chopped off my own leg than write. This is the first story that I've ever actually finished that was longer than 5 pages.  
> I'd like to thank a few people:  
> My fabulous beta readers, deaniebellrock and Ciara. Turns out I have a lot of typos.  
> My real life friends, Rebecca, Gina, and Stephanie. You know what you did, you fabulous people.  
> Magiciswecanchange and united-starship-enterprise on tumblr for giving me someone to talk to about NaNo when no one else wanted to :’)  
> ALL OF NANOWRIMO for simply existing and motivating me to make my "one day I'll write a story" into a "I'm getting my shit together and writing a fucking story".  
> Also, NaNo’s adoption society, where you can take and adapt ideas and quotes. It helped tremendously, giving me new ideas and just ugh, bless that forum.  
> All of you wonderful readers, for actually reading this garbage.  
> And Taylor Swift, for playing when my phone's music was on shuffle while I mowed the lawn and inspiring this story. (I intended it to be a 5000 word one shot, at the most. Oops?)  
> Also, I really wanted to include the slightly lesser known Taylor Swift song "I'd Lie", because it is sooo applicable, and it's just perfect for Castiel in this. But alas, I had only the 3 chapters and epilogue, and the songs I'd chosen were fabulous already.  
> Aaand I'm gonna go on a whim here and assume that nobody actually read the song lyrics, because nobody does. At least, I know I don't read the lyrics in song fics. Though this isn't actually a song fic, it just has song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter. Is that a song fic? I have no idea.  
> Finally, about the story... Let's pretend we live in a perfect world in which people who are in love in high school stay in love, and our sweethearts Cas and Dean stay together forever. Let's say that Dean goes to college for engineering like Cas said he could, let's say he even got a scholarship. And let's suppose that Cas coincidentally got into the same college for creative writing. (Which was only briefly mentioned in the first chapter. It was going to be a more important plot point than it turned out to be, which is why in one of my next stories, he'll want to be a writer too. Whatever.) And let's say they give each other rings, not formally married because Kansas isn't legal yet, but as soon as it is, they go and do it. Let's say they get a small house to live in, and they grow old together, just as in love as they had been in high school.  
> Okay, maybe this isn't reasonable, but these are my author's notes and I shall do what I want.  
> Thank you so so so much for reading.


	5. Deleted Scenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically I have a few scenes in my head that I couldn't fit into the story, because it's just random, post-getting-together fluff that would just draw out the ending too much. So here are some extra deleted scenes.
> 
> Some of these ideas are thanks to imagineyourotp on tumblr :)

 

Dean first sees Castiel wearing his glasses when he drops by his house as a surprise.

Castiel rushes down the stairs and opens the door without thinking. It's only when he opens the door that he remembers he'd been wearing them.

Dean pauses and just looks at Castiel. "You're wearing glasses."

Castiel feels his cheeks warm and go pink, and he quickly rips his glasses off his face, folding them up in his hands and putting them behind his back. "Oh--yeah, I use them for reading, mostly. I wear contacts to school and. Yeah."

"You're cute when you're flustered. Are you gonna let me in?"

Castiel, even more flustered now, steps aside to let Dean in. Suddenly, Dean turns and crowds him against the door in a surprisingly soft kiss. He pulls away just barely. "You look good in them. I don't know why you're embarrassed."

"They look stupid," Castiel sighs. He leans forward to brush their lips together, but Dean pulls back more. He smiles when Castiel makes a sound of frustration.

"No, they suit you." Dean separates their bodies and then pulls the glasses out of Cas's hands. He puts them on Cas's face for a moment and looks at him with a smile, before pulling them off and putting them on himself. "How do I look?"

Castiel squints. His eyesight is really terrible without glasses or contacts. "I can't see clearly. Come closer."

Dean obliges, stepping in closer. "How about now?"

Castiel can see perfectly fine now, and the glasses are sort of adorably charming on Dean. Still, he answers, "little bit closer."

Dean leans in, and Castiel immediately reaches up to press a quick kiss to Dean's lips. Dean deepens it. Castiel's hand goes up to Dean's cheek, his fingers curling around the glasses, and he pulls away from Dean's lips at the same moment as he pulls the glasses off his face. Castiel grins evilly and puts them on himself.

"You fight dirty," Dean announces.

"I do," Castiel agrees, before giving Dean one more peck on the lips, just because he can now, and he can't help it.

 

#

 

_January 24_

 

#

Dean's birthday falls on a Saturday. He hadn't told Cas it was his birthday, but something told him he already knew.

This was proven when Dean knocked on Cas's door in the afternoon of January 24. He stood awkwardly in front of the door, hands in his pocket, as he heard a lot of chaos inside.

"Castie-eeel, your boyfriend is here!"

"Hold on, Anna don't you dare--"

He heard frantic footsteps, and the door opens to reveal Cas literally holding Anna away from the door at arms length. Castiel is also wearing a pink floral apron, his face smudged with flour.

"Uh--" Dean says intelligently.

Cas replies, and he is ridiculously calm and serious for somebody who is still holding their sister back and wearing a flowery apron. "Hello, Dean. Happy birthday."

"Uh. Thanks? Are you guys _okay_ , or...?"

"We're fine. Come inside." Castiel opens the door and finally releases Anna, who pouts.

"I wasn't gonna do anything," she declares. Her pout is hilarious, seeing as she is 18.

Dean chuckles. He sort of gets a kick out of Cas's family. "So what's going on here anyways?"

Cas blushes. "I... it was supposed to be a surprise." He rushes into the kitchen and returns with a piece of paper.

It's a printed out recipe for pecan pie. Dean puts a hand on the back of Castiel's neck and pulls him into a kiss, because he just can't help it when Cas is sitting there with flour on his cheeks in an adorable apron, attempting to make pie for Dean. He hears a sound of irritation followed by mock gagging from Anna (and now possibly Gabe), but ignores it. Dean finally pulls back just a little to look into Cas's eyes.

"Hi," Castiel smiles.

"Hey."

They separate, Cas taking Dean's hand and dragging him into the kitchen. "I wanted it to be really good, but when I went to the store, I forgot to get the pie crust, and Anna refused to drive me back to get some, so I had to make it myself and--" he points at a block of tan _something_ on the counter. "It didn't really work."

Dean bites his lip to keep from laughing. "Alright, Cas, let's start from the beginning," he says as he starts washing his hands in the kitchen sink.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ I'm gonna help."

"Oh." A pause. " _No_ , you can't help, it's _your_ birthday pie and you just can't make your own birthday pie. It's against the rules."

"There are rules now?"

"Of course there are. You can't make your own birthday pie."

"I beg to differ."

"Then you beg to be _wrong,_ " Castiel insists.

"You're adorable," is all Dean can say before he presses Cas's hips against the kitchen counter and puts their lips together in a fiercely passionate kiss. When he pulls away, they're both breathless, Cas's cheeks pink and his lips red.

"Okay," he breathes with a nod. "You can help."

Dean grins and wipes at some of the flour on Cas's face with his thumb. "Let's get started."

Dean works on making the pie crust while Cas carefully follows the directions for the filling. (Cas is reading the directions with such determination that Dean can barely restrain himself from damning the pie and just kissing Cas against the counter some more.) Dean occasionally checks to make sure Cas is doing everything right, saving him once when he tried to put maple syrup in instead of the corn syrup.

A few times Gabe stops in to steal a handful of pecans, to Cas's annoyance. He also sometimes wrinkles his nose at the pair of them and mumbles something about, "Can't you guys limit your PDA?"

To which both Cas and Dean turn and say in unison: " _No_."

Finally the crust and the filling are both done, and the pie goes in the oven. When it comes out, it's supposed to cool for two hours. Dean ends up getting up about every _five freaking minutes_ to check if it's cool yet.

"I assure you, Dean, it isn't cool yet. It hasn't even been an hour."

"Feel it, Cas, it isn't even hot anymore!"

"The recipe says two hours, Dean, we will wait two hours."

Fifteen minutes later, Cas is cutting the pie.

"We should have waited, Cas, look, it's all gooey and melty," Dean sighs.

" _You're_ the one who insisted we eat it, Dean," Castiel points out with an eye roll.

"Yeah, but--"

"You're a child," Cas decides.

"I am not."

"Actual five year old, Dean Winchester."

"Aren't I at least seven years old?"

"No," Cas shakes his head seriously. "You can have a movie made about you. 'Actual Five Year Old, Dean Winchester: The Movie'."

"Maybe it can be 'Actual Seven Year Old, Dean Winchester: The Musical'."

"Eat your damn pie, Dean."

"Yes, sir!" They both dig in. It's possibly the best pie Dean's ever eaten.

_#_

It doesn't take Dean very long to realize that Cas is ticklish.

Really really ticklish.

Dean is at Cas's house in his living room. Cas had had his head resting in Dean's lap, reading a book. Dean had occupied himself with playing with Cas's hair. Cas's shirt rode up on his stomach, Dean had reached down to tug at it. Immediately, Cas had squirmed away from the touch.

Dean tries to keep his grin from growing, biting his lip to contain it. "Cas," he says slowly. "Are you ticklish?"

Cas narrows his eyes. "Of course not. I'm not ticklish. At all." He attempts to hide his face from view behind his book.

"You're an awful liar," Dean declares, reaching his fingers down again. They barely brush Cas's stomach when he jerks again, curling his legs up to his stomach as a shield.

"Dean, stop."

Dean does not stop. He grabs Cas's book and puts it on the coffee table, adjusting their position so that Dean can tickle him.

"Dean--Dean I swear, do not even--" his protests are broken off with laughter as Dean's fingers push teasingly into his sides. "Dean, knock it off!" he manages between fits of laughter.

"Aw, you're cute when you laugh."

Cas glares and shies away from Dean's wiggling fingers. "I'm not laughing right now!"

Dean grins. "You're even cuter when you're mad."

"I hate you."

"I love you."

Cas reconsiders. "I... tolerate your existence."

Dean kisses him. They kiss for awhile, until Dean's fingers find their way back to Cas's sides. The kiss is finally broken by Cas's laughter.

"You're going to use this against me. I can feel it," Castiel sighs.

"Oh yeah. Definitely."

 


End file.
